Living the XMen Life
by InspirationandStrife
Summary: Mutant trouble lands Gambit under the same roof as Rogue&everybody else.Interesting things happen when they share the same house.Will Remy make it as an X-Man or will his bad boy history ruin his chances?Naturally ROMY.M for language&lemons.
1. The Fateful First Step

**Living the X-Men Life 01**

_Oh Mon Dieu_. Remy Lebeau smiled in the dark. He slowly removed himself from the woman he just banged into bed with. He admitted she was freak refreshing. Her legs wrapped around him, he grabbing her fleshy ass... Ah. The life he lived. But he had to go now...

The fire in her. The hot, pale body. The fight she put up...in bed. Something rang familiar about her.

Oh yes. No. Oh yeah. Rogue. Ah, he loved that one.

He slipped on his clothes in dead silence, the girl barely stirring in her exhaust. His boxers. His jeans. His belt. His shirt. His half-gloves. His socks. His shoes. Where's his phone? _Ah, there on the table_. He slotted the gadget in his butt pocket. And there was his trench coat on the couch...

"RA RA RA-AA-AA-AA! ROMA ROMA-MA-AA! GAGA OOH-LA-LA! WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE!" screamed his phone at him.

_BAISE SAINTE _(HOLY FUCK)!!! Remy's mind screamed back at his phone.

He fumbled clumsily for his phone, jammed in his ass pocket. Not the smoothest move the great Thief was used to.

"Mmmph..." moaned the girl from the bed, her form shifting about. Her movement put his senses on high panic alert.

He mustered his coolness back. "Nothin' _cheré_. Just _moi_ (my) phone. Sleep..." He shifted to her and ran a finger over her cheek, around her ear. That did the trick. The woman stirred no more.

He hammered the red hang-up key and sneaked out, gently closing the door behind him. He gave a proper glare at the stupid phone. Never. Use. Lady Gaga's. Song. As. Your. Ringtone. Ever. Again. He always knew he could count on jazz music. He put the phone on silent. He should have done that before sex.

He walked on the corridor out of the apartment building. As he moved, he looked over the Caller ID of the asshole who phoned him at that bloody moment. 'Unknown' it said. He scowled. A prank caller.

The phone's screen suddenly changed and the device vibrated between his fingers. The 'Unknown' ID surfaced. He was gonna give this bastard a piece of his mind.

"Listen, you f– "

"Remy...Remy LeBeau! Is...it... Brrr...you?"

Remy took a moment to register that deep, rumbling voice. _So familiar. So...Russian? Russian. What Russian knows me?_ It hit him. "Colossus? That you, Piotr?"

"Gambit! Yes, yes, it is me! Please, do me a hand!"

Muscles sounded desperate. Remy never heard him ask for help before. This must be absolutely serious. "What's up, Muscles?"

"I am in Russia!" He knew that. "I am in deep trouble!" He didn't know that. "They are after me! I have no much time to tell, but you must come to Moscow at once! You shall find me in the old palace. Goodbye, my friend!"

"What –" Too late. Muscles hung up on him.

He was no hero, but he could brave a situation out in a blink. So he was on a plane, in the Economy seat en route to Moscow from New Orleans, wearing a pair of sunglasses to shield the world from his black-and-red eyes. He tried to occupy his mind with movies on the flight, but the urgency and distress in Colossus's voice drew his thoughts aside. Last he knew was Muscles had bolted to recover his family when Magneto got dissolved by Apocalypse. After that, Remy could not stand living with Pyro alone and left for home. Or what, _was_ home. Without anything to do, no money to make, he decided to pay the Thieves a homecoming visit. Then he learned that his foster father was kidnapped by the Assassins. His sense of filial loyalty caused the many gears of his scheming mind to start in motion. He needed to get his father out, by all means necessary. He could easily manage on his own; kidnapping was a trick of the Thieves' trade that he learned, as well as other honourable skills like pick pocketing and murder. But information-tapping was not one of them.

He needed someone who can rip information like the back of his hand. Or **her** hand, as the notion suddenly hit him. Hence, he napped Rogue and brought her to Louisiana under the guise that he wanted to help her with her problems. The young woman had too many problems. At that moment, she was struggling with her mutation, mental space, betrayal, murdering her foster mother, facing the other X-men after betraying the world to Apocalypse...the list goes on. He picked up alot from spying – that is – watching over her. He did not mean to _only _make use of her. Or did he? He hoped to take her out of the X-men, for himself. He sort of fancied her. For her resistance, her bad attitude toward the world and most of all, for her mutation. The sexually frustrating combination of a goddess body and death-touch skin made her so tantalising, ravishing, it burned his very soul to look upon her.

_So, er, what was this movie about?_

The plane touched down in Moscow itself. He questioned the lady at the taxi counter where was the 'old palace'. She momentarily stared him down with a sparkle of lust, then snapped out of it, calling a cab to get him there. He took a map of Moscow with him at her elbow.

It was below liveable temperatures outside, forcing the swamp-boy to strangle himself in his coat on his way out of the airport. He could not figure why Colossus would be hiding in an 'old palace'. The taxi driver said something in Russian. Remy gave a reply in French. The driver fell silent. Good. Sunglasses-wearing Remy did not want any gossip. He stopped the cab half a mile from the palace itself.

He pulled his coat on as he stepped out of the cab, looking across the street for a seven-footer with metallic grey eyes. He walked in the direction of the palace, as pictured on the map. When he got there, he understood why it was the 'old palace'. The place was deserted, broken beyond repair – the exact symbol of the fall of the Tzars. No one would look for anyone here.

He came to the rusty old palace gates and there was no one here. _Did Muscles say 'at' or 'in' the palace?_

Must be 'In'.

He unsheathed his fighting staff. After an hour of roaming around the huge estate, he found a boarded up hole in the palace wall that evidently was broken into already. When he tapped the wooden plank, it dropped to the ground. Remy smiled. _Colossus, you were never good at fixing the doors you break._

He crept in, replacing the wood then walked along the dusty walls, following a trail of footprints, seen by the patches of cleared dust. He was led straight into the main hall. Hovering over his head was an old chandelier. He wondered why no one had stolen the large diamonds that glittered on it yet.

Then he heard it: a shuffle behind him on the balcony. Before his potential enemy could move another inch, he had pulled out a card and charged it, ready to throw and blow the living daylights out of –

"Piotr! Damn you!" He uncharged his weapon and slipped it back in his card pack at the sight of a large man emerging from the shadows. "Alright, so what's the problem here?"

"руки вверх!" Soldiers appeared all over the place and before Remy could register his surroundings, they surrounded him.

"Okay, okay." He was ready to drop his rod and send charged cards flying in all directions when the balcony came crashing down with a thunderous boom. The chandelier was next, followed by a familiar, heavily Russian-accented voice yelling at him to take cover in English. That was easy in the cloud of dust erupted from the chaos.

His quick eyes darted around. Soldiers stumbling all around. He scattered a quarter deck all around, knocking out the jokers on his right. He heard heads colliding together as Colossus put those huge metal hands to use. He smashed several heads with his rod before the soldiers decided to use their guns. Not like the firing did anything to the two mutants who were used to it. More explosions and head knockings later, the dust settled to reveal a scene of dead unconscious or just dead Russion squad members surrounding a pair of mutants in fighting stance. One gleamed with a metallic body of a giant, the other lean with a long trench coat flapping like a heroic cape.

The two mutants relaxed their tensed bodies, turned to each other and Gambit flashed a triumphant grin. Colossus gave a rare, grateful smile. The two cordially shook hands.

"So, Muscles." Remy prompted his giant friend to talk. "Hungry?"

"Very much so. There is a good place I know."

After donning a large overcoat and a broad hat, Piotr led them out of the old palace and away into the winter night. Gambit shivered the whole way to the restaurant. Neither spoke a word.

After a good dinner of Russian delicacy, Piotr explained himself over coffee. Remy lit a cigarette, Piotr respectfully turning down the offer of a smoke.

"I had returned to my family after Magneto's supposed demise." he began. "I recovered my sister and I brought her home. I lived with them for the next few weeks until they came. The soldiers. I do not know from whence they had come or who they work for, but I believe the rumoured anti-mutant movement must be working again."

"Yeah. Tell me 'bout it. Who's the moron who released Trask."

"Is that why you wear sunglasses, even in the dark, my friend?"

"Yeah. But we were talkin' about your story?"

"A messenger, a friend of my family, came to our village to warn of their coming. That foreign soldiers had arrived with the intention to round up mutants who made trouble for their villages. I fled for my family's sake, but I can only hope that they are safe."

Remy swirled his coffee around before quietly sipping it, without glancing up. _Oh man. I can tell you, they ain't much alive if the soldiers have their way._

"What do you propose, Remy?"

"It's either the fire or the frying pan."

"Do you suggest we return to...?"

"Better persecution than death, yeah?"

"Worse than death, if Trask has his way."

"Bayville it is. Besides, X-men life can't be _that_ bad."

***

Touching down on American soil, the two refugees hijacked a car, ripped off the licence plate and drove to Bayville. They dumped the car in a ditch (Gambit exploded it after Colossus crushed it into a metal ball) outside Bayville town and walked into the city on foot to avoid the cops at night. They could do that.

In broad daylight they walked the streets, turning no heads in their direction under the long coats they wore. Remy had a cig between his lips. But apparently, not all mutants had the same idea to be unobvious.

His back leaned against the brick wall outside a restaurant, in jeans and V-necked orange shirt, toying with the flame of his lighter, was the madman both Colossus and Gambit remembered too well. The orange head cocked his head at the sight of his ex-teammates and grinned that insane grin.

He snapped his lighter shut and waved. The pair was compelled to approach him with caution. The madness in his wild eyes screamed "I wanna burn this town down, baby! And that includes YOU!!!"

"Hiya, mates! Watcha doin' around here?" Pyro laughed.

"We could ask you that as well." replied Colossus.

"I got a date with Wanda. How's that?" The mad gleam in his eye changed to an excited glitter.

Remy and Piotr exchanged glances. Yeah, Pyro was as obsessed with Wanda as Remy was with Rogue, but both men kept their desires to themselves when Magneto breathed down their necks. Now, out of his service, apparently Pyro had been faster at seizing the opportunity then Remy was.

"Congrats." Remy smiled.

Pyro suddenly had a hit on what they were up to. "You mates gonna audition for X-men or somethin', aren't ya?"

"Ye...ah." _Audition? What the hell..?_

"Ain't gonna be easy. They've been getting lotsa media attention. If humans see action, you'll see yourselves on Youtube in an hour. Ooh ooh!" Pyro suddenly jerked his head across the street and waved to a goth babe in the darkest outfit Remy had ever seen, and he had seen many. Even darker then Rogue's. Red tipped, short hair matched the red slashed top and black leather tights. Buckled stiletto-heeled boots up to her knees and Dracula fingernails, with matching Christ crosses on her ears and on a chain around her neck for a necklace, matched with a netted clutch. The make-up was Michael Jackson's Thriller inspired. But somehow, Wanda looked sexy, in a creepy, insane sort of style. Well, one can tell Pyro and Wanda were the perfect couple.

Her characteristic why-the-hell-is-the-world-so-damn-annoying face greeted the three men as she crossed the street. When she was close enough, she hissed at all of them. "I thought I was dating just one loony."

"_Oui._ Piotr and me are just leavin'." Remy made his tone suggestive to his companion that they better scram for their lives.

"You guys gonna join the X-Men or what?"

"So everyone knows, eh?" Remy frowned at how obvious Colossus and himself were making their intensions.

"Kinda obvious." Wanda pointed out. "You aren't up to joinin' the Brotherhood, so where else you gonna go?"

"I'm joining them!" Pyro cut in.

Remy and Colossus looked at him as if he had just set his own head on fire.

"Serious."

"Very, mate."

"Okay, back to you two." interrupted Wanda. "What makes you guys think you can get in? Especially you, Gambit."

"Why me?"

"Rogue told me about you kidnapping her that time. I think if you join, your first X-men duty is to be moving target practice for the kids training."

"Yeah, I suppose." _So word got around already?_ Damn, moving to Bayville is gonna be harder than he thought.

"Well, just get your butts there and see what that Professor has got to say. He's kinda nicer than the rest. The Brotherhood house is always open." she offered.

_Why was she being so nice?_

"Yeah, I know there's a damn lot of trouble outside. Pyro's been tellin' me."

"Otherwise I'd be in Australia, mates." A sad expression passed over his usually grinning face for a split. Then he laughed it off.

"Thanks." replied Remy.

"Keep in touch!" called Pyro as he put his arm around Wanda's waist to lead her into the restaurant. He received a hard slap across his arm and a soft hiss. "I said, if you tried to hold me again..."

Pyro whined like an abused puppy and teasingly followed her obediently. Before he went through the door, he flashed a mad smile and a wink at his friends then dashed after Wanda.

Piotr shook his head and Remy shrugged his shoulders. _What mutants do to pass the time..._

***

They took Pyro's advice nonetheless and appeared on the X-Mansion grounds at graveyard hours. Gambit soared over their gates with confident ease. Colossus stared after him, morphed into his metal form, crunched the gates with his bare hands and pulled them from their hinges.

"_Nice._" Remy pulled the cig from his mouth and remarked. "First impression..." He gave two thumbs up.

Piotr rumbled something then pointed to his companion's smoke.

Remy threw it on the ground and stepped it out.

Then all around them, sensor-activated weaponry sprouted out the ground. Red dots of laser appeared on their bodies and the two mutants jumped for it.

Welcome to the X-Men.


	2. The Eventful First Night

**WOW guys thanks for the overwhelming response! Thanks for bearing with my French attempts too!**

**desk chair: **alright. changed the rating to T for language. Thanks for the review!

**rogue usagi kou: **Thank you! =]

**gambitfan85: **haha Thanks!

**Lucida Lownes:** YES!!! thanks

**courtneykutie: **haha ya i liked that part too! it's a classic moment in life. i hope there is enough Rogue in here for you!

**Nilya2397: **Updated! haha enjoy!

**Oh yes, readers, ENJOY!**

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Living the X-Men Life 02

They merely managed to dodge the laser beams, the flying sharp gears of death, flying electric nets, flying metal coconuts and more flying what-have-yous before they subdued the weapons of defence without destroying them. They should have just ringed the doorbell. The ruckus must have woken the whole house because the entire X-Men crew had emerged from the Mansion in full uniform, ready to smash something, or _someone_.

Gambit could believe they both had bull's eye target boards on them the way the X-Men were glaring at them so intensively. He only hoped their aim was not so good... He opened his mouth to say something.

"Can we help you, Bub?" Wolverine growled, at the head of the pack.

"Got a registration form?" Gambit replied coolly, removing his coat.

"Huh?!" and many other versions of polite 'What the hell?!' erupted from the rest of the team.

"Nothin' personal, Bub, but this joint ain't no place for yah'."

"We come in peace." Colossus answered.

"Not you, Colossus." Logan said, pointing at the Cajun with a muscular finger. Yikes. "But that rat next to yah' better run."

"X-Men," the smooth voice of Professor Xavier broke through before anyone made a deadly move toward Gambit. "Stand down." The man in a wheelchair, fully dressed for business, rolled between his students to stop before the two intruders. "Let's first hear what they have to say."

"You've gotta be kiddin', Chuck." rumbled Logan. "I know the type. You give 'em one chance and you're gonna regret it."

"Don't worry, Logan. I think they both have more at stake than we do." He turned back to them. "Would you step into my office gentlemen?"

The two men nodded appreciatively. Whew. They still had their limbs intact. Last they had heard of the X-Men, about a year ago, they had become a tougher team to beat since being put against Apocalypse.

Well, here we go. Interview time!

As Remy passed between the X-Men, who glared him down like a leper, he overheard a certain Southern angel mumble. "_Super_."

He then snuck a glance her way. She ducked her face away at once, holding her proud chin high. Oh, he could not help but notice how her rich lips looked so kissable in the moonlight. He would have loved to treat himself to see how the light would trace her soft curves, her figure outlined by the shadows.

Oh right. Interview with Professor Xavier. He turned his head to the direction he was supposed to walk.

***

"I saw that..." teased Kitty in a singsong voice.

Rogue swirled her head at her friend with her don't-make-me-do-it scowl. "Saw what?" she snapped back.

"You looked away..." Kitty winked.

"Your point?" That move proves nothing! Although he looked a bit fitter than before when he removed his coat. Especially the shoulders. Pure muscle. Gawd, the uniform he wore was skin tight! Her eyes had a mind of their own as they travelled the outline of his body against the moonlight. Hmmm, the only thing left out was his –

The Professor called out. "Logan, Ororo, Scott, Jean and Rogue. The rest of you, thank you for your urgency. Back to bed!"

Mumbles and whispers of the curious teenagers responded as they went in.

Kitty patted her friend's shoulder with a naughty smile. "Don't worry, Rogue. Your secret's safe with me."

Rogue shook her off with a grunt.

"What secret?" whispered Kurt, who came bounding up to the two girls.

Rogue growled them quiet. The two had learned not to bother her too much after Rogue tackled Tabitha to the floor one time. The girl had asked for it. It was about time someone had slammed the facts into her head, but Rogue was a touch too violent and the Goth spent the next month on probation. What drove her overboard though remained a mystery of the Mansion no one wanted to ask.

As Rogue passed Tabitha on the way in, she overheard the other girl giggle to Amara. "Glowing red eyes, man! They were damn sexy, seriously!"

Ah'. Will. Ignore. Her. Rogue told herself strutting away. But she heard the rest of it nonetheless.

Amara added, "No kidding."

Tabitha added, "Oh my god, the body! No other guy around here is worth it."

"I heard he's into Rogue."

"C'mon, Amara. How can a hot guy like that have bad taste, right?"

Bad taste?? Why Ah' outta...!

"Rogue?" rumbled Logan's gruff voice as he turned to her in concern.

Rogue forced herself to turn away from Tabitha. I should be draining that butch dry! "Nothin' Logan."

***

The two other mutants sat on the couch along the wall of the office. The Professor was at his desk. Logan leaned his butt against the side of the desk. Ororo stood at Xavier's right. Jean sat primly on a chair by the desk, Scott behind her. Rogue squeezed herself into the picture and sat on the desk next to Logan.

"I see neother of you brought any luggage. Tell us," Professor began Interview Time. "What news from outside Bayville?"

The Professor must have read their minds. Gambit answered, "We're in trouble."

The X-Men exchanged glances.

Colossus continued, "My companion means that we mutants that live apart from each other are being taken advantage of. Hunted down. I myself was in extreme danger."

"Was?" asked Logan.

"I had phoned Remy to help me in Moscow." He looked at Remy for permission to continue. Remy shrugged his shoulders. "The Russian authorities were willing to cooperate with the anti-mutant movement we believe is at work again."

Logan turned to Xavier for a second, shooting the Wolverine-look that said "Told you to lock Trask back up, and you didn't!"

"I see." The Professor answered Colossus. "Are your tracks covered at least?"

Gambit looked up with his confident smirk. He put on his sunglasses to signify their use of disguises and fake passports. "The car's blown in some hole outside Bayville and we wore normal clothes on the way."

Logan grunted. Rogue's head tilted to her side. The sunglasses were 80's and they looked good on him. Cute, even. Eh, snap out of it! Damn.

"Scott, anything?"

"Yeah, Professor." He turned to Gambit. Why are they all picking on him? "What's your story, Gambit?"

The Cajun in question removed his sunglasses and crossed a leg, contemplating the situation. Should he tell them how he went back to the Guild? That he gave in to being a Thief again to take care of them until the Assassins left them alone about his father's kidnap business? Instead, an Assassin crashed through his door and wanted to drive her claws into him. His trouble was not from the American authorities, and he would rather marry Trask and Co. than _her_. For the past seven months, he had been running from a woman.

No no no no no. Maybe later on he would confess that... "I came from a crime family called the Thieves Guild –"

"Yeah, Ah' told them that already." Rogue stated blandly.

Oh. What else did she tell them? "Er, yeah. After...you know..." His hand drew vague shapes in the air to indicate the kidnapping Rogue episode. "I went back to the Guild, thinkin' my own should take me back. Turns as soon my father (he coughed) was safe, I became game. Gunshots and all." Well, that was _half_ the truth. Nothing was B.S..

All six pairs of X-Men eyes scrutinised him like an insect specimen. Oh but, hey, Rogue was looking. Intensively. He liked that. He looked back at her. She narrowed her eyes and blinked away.

Storm broke the silence. "We should give them both a chance."

"Eh?!" barked Wolverine.

"Jean?" Storm beckoned the red-headed telepath to speak her mind.

"They're both telling the truth, even Gambit." she said, fingering her chin. "But I'm not so sure..."

Storm turned to Rogue.

"No comment." she replied, crossing her arms. What was she supposed to say about him? There were too many adults in this room for her taste.

"Rogue..." Ororo walked over to her. Her body blocked the two mutants on the couch from seeing Rogue's expression. Then the older lady whispered oh-so-softly in the teenager's ear. "If anyone can judge him, it's you. D'you trust him?"

"How d'you trust someone who kidnapped you?" Gotta keep the mask on. Gotta keep him away.

"Do you trust him enough to give him a chance?" Rogue did not answer. "He trusts you, you know. It's alright to say it."

Logan grunted. He heard that.

Storm flashed a glare at him and he shut his jaw. She turned back to Rogue and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's up to you, Rogue. You're the only person who had personal contact with him. You know him better than any telepath. Your decision." She patted the girl then walked back to her place in the picture.

Rogue lifted her face to stare into Remy's. He looked pleadingly back, maintaining his pride, with a cocked chin and relaxed posture in the sofa. She tapped her foot then sighed. "Ah' think – No." His face fell. "Ah' know he's telling the stupid truth." He regained his smile. "From what Ah' know, the Thieves Guild aren't the friendliest or most trustworthy type. That's what the Assassins think. Course that says somethin' 'bout him too. Anyway, if it were up to meh', Ah'll give him one chance. After that, Ah'll throw him out myself!" She jerked her thumb behind her as if she was taking out the trash.

Logan coughed a laugh. The Professor smiled. "So," he continued, "a vote. Does Colossus join?"

Nods and "yes" all around.

"Gambit?"

Slower nods and a pair of "yes". Logan grunted a "fine."

The Professor stretched out a hand to the two newcomers. Colossus stepped forward and grasped the pale hand with his gigantic one. Gambit came up and shook the hand with his gloves on.

"Good then." The Professor easily conjured up a smile. "Jean, would you show our new members to the rooms?"

"Sure, Professor. Good night guys! This way..." She sweetly led Piotr and Remy out of the office.

"Good night, Jean. Oh, and Rogue, a moment?" The Professor put his fingertips together.

Remy snatched a peek as the oak doors closed behind him. Uh oh. He would bet that the Professor was gonna talk about him.

***

Jean walked them through a finely decorated corridor where, Remy noticed, other guys were trudging into their rooms. "So, this is the guys' side, right?" he asked to confirm his theory.

"Yes, Gambit." Jean turned her head and answered. "For the sake of the kids. So they don't do anything they'll regret."

What's so bad about premarital sex? He wondered how the kids survived, being so deprived. The only couple in this house was the cliché Scott X Jean. Good, clean, unadulterated f-f-fun. And they say the X-Men can't party...

"Well, here you go." Jean threw open a couple of doors telekinetically. "Towels and other things are in the cupboard. Breakfast at seven, after that the fridge is empty. Think you guys can find your way around?"

The men exchanged glances. In the old days, Magneto had a blueprint of the two-floor Mansion and fifty-floor basement. Remy smiled villainously. "Yeah."

"Okay. Goodnight." She gave a polite wave.

"Goodnight, Miss Grey." said Colossus and closed the room door behind him, leaving Remy and Jean standing in the corridor.

Remy gave a half salute to 'Miss Grey' and started to walk to his assigned room. He was suddenly lifted off his feet and gently slammed, face first, against the corresponding wall. Alright, maybe she meant the 'goodnight' only to Piotr. "Goodnight?" he tried.

"Don't try to play coy with me!" Remy the orphan never had a mother, but he already hated that nagging tone. "Rogue's going through a tough time. Just you leave her alone."

"_D'accord_ (Understood)_. Être désolé_ (I'm sorry). I didn't know that." He hoped he gave the right answer. There was silence between them. He could feel ice forming at the back of his neck. Then he was lowered onto his feet. He turned.

"You hurt her, you know." Jean continued. "After she came back, she disappeared into her room. Didn't wanna talk. Nothing. Then she became her reckless, solo self again, almost getting Kitty killed on a biking trip. So watch your step!"

He took it as the lady did not read the fine print. His Queen of Hearts sticking out of the ass pocket of her pants. Maybe she became quiet because his psyche was running around in her head? Ooh, he wondered what he said to her in her head... As for reckless, he guessed her fire has been relit. At least she ain't moping around the house. "_Oui, madamme_." He gave her a half bow and for the fun of it, took her hand and laid his lips on the bare tips of her fingers. He waited for her to snatch them away. She did, after a one-and-a-half second stun.

A pink shade passed her face as she recovered herself. "Urgh." Her poor mimic of Rogue's much more stirring scoff made him smile in triumph. Ha. What Shades would have given to be able to do that to his own girlfriend!

"Goodnight?" He stood up straight with a slight spread of his arms.

"Something wrong, Jean?" came the voice of The Boyfriend of the Year. "Is he giving you any trouble?"

"N-No. I'm alright, Scott." She hugged him around his neck and quickly kissed his cheek. Remy was caught as an audience to the mildest love-making he has ever seen, the deepest sense of pity for them echoing within him. She bid Shades goodnight and, was that a sashay?, walked away. Scott remained hypnotised as his lady strolled away, then realising he was not alone, spun around and shot the protective-boyfriend look.

Remy raised his palms in white flag surrender and slipped into his own room. Great. Good Boy is his neighbour. Wow, four-star motel classed rooms. Too bad for the single bed. Lamps. Everywhere. A desk. A one-seat couch. No personal bathroom. Make that three-star.

He stripped down to his boxers. No pyjamas. For the first time in seven months, Remy LeBeau laid a peaceful head to sleep.

***

"You're okay with the arrangement?" Xavier asked his student when the doors closed.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Rogue mumbled, uncrossing her arms.

Scott, Ororo and Logan knew when they were not needed and swiftly left the room after exchanging goodnights. Logan gave Rogue's shoulder a comforting squeeze. She smiled back.

"You'll be alright with his attention?"

"I can take care of myself, Professor."

Xavier gave a small, unreadable smile and bid her goodnight. Rogue left for her room, scolding herself. Take care of herself. Yeah, she can do that. It's no big deal feeling all soft and defenceless inside when he looks into her eyes. She loved his attentions, and hated them at the same time. When he stopped her midway in battle, when she ran into him at school, when he grabbed her in the alley on her way to school, when he kept her warm with his own coat, when he had dinner with her, when he...used her. Damn him. Did he have any feelings at all? Or was she just one of those other girls? Oh she knew about _all_ of them, and apparently his psyche didn't remember nuts about their names.

She closed her room door. She stripped out of her uniform into her green-and-yellow pyjamas.

But, he remembers her name. Once in a rare while, when she lets her guard down, in comes his psyche to charm and annoy her. She could push him away. But he only got stronger and stronger in her mind. One fine, summer day, when the weather was hot and his thoughts were coming closer, when she sought solitude in the library, in came dancing Tabitha with her bloody headphones. The blonde sat herself next to grouchy, headache-prone Rogue, the loud bass in her music throbbing out into Rogue's ears. The latter mustered the patience to turn it down or "Get the hell out.", not once, but twice. No effect on her brain. No one else was doing anything about it, turning away like nothing was going on.

Before Rogue knew what she was doing, Remy's psyche had tripped Tabitha's chair. Tabitha yelled. Rogue yelled. Catfight ensued between the loudmouth and the reclusive one. Rogue had the better fighting hand and Logan had to pull her away from ripping Tabitha's hair out. Damn you, Gambit.

_I'm sorry, Rogue._

That's what he said at the bayou, when she turned her back on him. Then she turned back. Met the X-Men who were looking for her. Came up with a plan to save him. He gave her his Queen of Hearts. Without saying it, he had called her his Lucky Lady, the one who "Got him out of a whole lot of jams." Did he know she kept it?

As she snuggled under the sheets, her hand slid into her head pillow case. Out came his Queen of Hearts. She gazed it over. He had kissed her – she meant – the card. The lady on the card. Unconsciously, the card drew closer to her face. Almost there. No. Rogue pulled the card away from herself and put it back into her pillow case, laid her head on the pillow and slept away the thought.

***

The sun was just up when Remy opened his eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. Oh, right. X-Mansion. In his boxers and a white towel slung over his shoulder, he walked out of his door with morning hair and other glorious I-slept-like-no-tomorrow signs. Piotr passed him, already showered and changed into his uniform. Oh right, they did not have anything else to wear.

"I thought of heading to the mall today so that we may purchase more casual attire." His tone was no suggestion, but a demand that Remy come along.

"Alright, Muscles. Good morning to you too." he yawned back.

He turned a corner to the shared bathroom. The sign 'Occupied' in bold red letters hung on the knob. Damn. Then his ears heard something. He rubbed the sleep out of his ears and listened harder. A boy-band singing voice echoed behind the door.

"...And I say I wear my SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT! Oh yeah! I wear my SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT! I wear my SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT!"

Good. God. Remy's face contorted into a clash of suppressed laughter and who-the-hell-is-that? He listened closer. Sunglasses. At night. Ha ha. Only one suspect. Monsieur Scott Summers.

He leaned on the doorpost with a fist on his hip. So that when the door opened, the face to greet Summers would be his humoured one. True enough, when the door opened and the man-boy lifted his head with the tune still on his lips, his face was priceless. Remy could swear it went whiter than his towel, his eyes were saucers and their gazes were locked for a long, awkward moment. Remy just stared back with half-lids to hide his amusement.

"Morning, Summers?"

"Morning, Lebeau..." And the boy shuffled away. Remy shook his head with a grin and stepped into the warm, moist air.

When Remy emerged, awake, dry and toothbrushed, a line of students stared him outside. C'mon, he didn't take that long. "Hey." Why are they looking at him like a criminal? Alright, he was. But what was this? Supreme Court?

"Nice boxers." Logan said passed him.

He looked down himself. Dark pink with a black band. It matched his uniform that he had left in the room. "Am I revealing too much for you?" He called back at Logan.

The boys laughed. Logan had zero response.

"Good morning." Remy turned down the corridor.

Welcome to the X-men.

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**Remy, remy, remy...WILL ROGUE CATCH HIM IN HIS BOXERS? WHAT HAPPENS AT BREAKFAST? HAS JEAN EVER CAUGHT SCOTT SINGING IN THE SHOWER? Find out after a review! haha Thanks everyone! Hope you liked this chapter as much!**


	3. Breakfast and Beyond

**This third chapter took a little more thinking time. Mostly on the conversation and the progress of the various situations. Alot of cut and paste instances here because if I were to write all the details, the story will dragggg. Reminds me of Drama Class, when you have to devise a piece: create scenes, rearange them continuously, cut scenes you love for the play's sake then throw in random lines to replace the scenes you cut. A real drag. But hey, Theatre is a great thing anyway. =] LOve it.**

**Lucida Lownes: **omg, you do?? okay okay no offence! i got the idea off a deviantart fanart that i found a few days ago, it was fascinating... inspiration for a nonsensical incident for newbie remy to experience. remy always gets it. somehow. =] and I LOVE YOUR Rogue-chere FANFIC!!!

**courtneykutie:** haha yeah she was! made remy feel so special. Rogue has gotta be someone to make a man feel loved by _looking away_. haha glad you liked it!

**Kii:** and i so have. thank you!!! this chapter has gone places! =] YOU BE AWESOME! Note everyone: remy is boxers at breakfast is **Kii**'s idea!!

**martshi3:** thank ye i blush now

**.-:** yeap! remy ought to have taken a photo and sold on an online auction eh? haha

**microcheese:** i thanketh thee. updated! =] enjoy!

**And thank you guys for ALL THE FAVOURITES & ALERTS that get a writer feeling loved! Please, ENJOY! =]**

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Living the X-Men Life 03

"Don't even think about it, Gambit." growled Logan.

Now what? He just came out of his room again. He cannot walk five steps without being stopped by this guy! "Think what?"

"Wear something. This ain't your grandmother's house."

"I've got nothin'." Remy gestured to his dark pink boxers like they were his only belongings in the world. "Relax, Monsieur. After breakfast, me and Piotr will buy some clothes."

"It's not the _after_ I'm worried about."

***

Rogue hated mornings. Just hated it. Kitty was hogging the bathroom again. Jean was all ready already. She was up next. Her hair sucked, all poofy at the back and flat at the sides. No headaches at least.

By seven, she was downstairs before the kids were invading the kitchen. Already the rest were there, with the addition of Colossus and G-G-Gambit...!!!

Oh. My. Freak. Shit! HOLY MOTHER OF – Couldn't he just wear the bed sheets?! Would it KILL him to wear his uniform?!

Her heart was running at 120 miles. She sped backwards out of the kitchen, leaning against the wall outside. She sucked a slow, hot breath. That was too much. Too much. What is he thinking? Okay, okay. She pinched the sleep out of her eyes, wanting to just scratch them out though.

An unusual sensation throbbed between her legs, making her knees buckle. He was the definition of sex-appeal with his thick hair let down to fluff up above his shoulder. His skin was just a bit tan, not too much that he looked like burnt toast, but a perfect shade of dark. It was stretched over his damn-well-worked muscles. Oh lord, those broad shoulders and the strong arms knotted with hard effort. And don't get her thinking about his man-boobs. Her eyes didn't have time to register the legs, but imagination took her places that said they were as long, lean, hard and strong as anything else that belonged to his body. She wondered, does that include his... The last time she felt this way was the first time they had met. He stopped her in her tracks. Whoa, it's getting hot in this corridor. She fanned her face a little.

_Liking it, eh cheré? _purred the deep, rumbling voice of Remy's psyche.

A small, nervous smile replied the "Yes..." the psyche wanted to hear. Instantly she shoved it away fiercely, stood up straight and brushed herself right. Breathe in. Breathe out. Yeah.

They were engaged in some sort of conversation when she stepped in. Everyone turned to see who it was, then turned away. Only two pairs of eyes remained a little longer on her: Logan's and Remy's. Logan put his hand on the empty chair next to him, saying "Don't worry, that rat's not gettin' you this morning. Settle down here, Rogue."

She gave an answering to smile. Then a sidelong glance at Remy. Carefully. Man-boobs. He was swirling his cup of coffee. "Good morning." he said casually when he caught her eye. Then sat down. Next to Colossus. A plate of peanut butter toast. That's it? No annoying smiles? No naughty looks at her? Nothing smart to say? Not even a wink, she got from him. That's it. He must be up to something.

His psyche chose to shut up, as if playing along the game of the original man. Damn. She hated mornings. Nothing good ever happened.

She took out a bowl and a spoon then reached up her favourite cereal box. It was uncomfortably light. The box was empty save a piece of paper folded in a heart-shaped origami. The note said, "Yummy – _T_. Haha"

Damn her! She crushed the paper and threw it at the bin.

The paper ball had barely passed behind his head. Instincts made him swerve his head forward before whatever was flying knocks him dead. Then the rustle of plastic in the bin he sat next to told him he was safe. He fingered the back of his head. He turned toward the 'attacker'.

Rogue stood half-stunned that her aim was that close to taking out her morning grouchiness on him. "Er, sorreh'." Her words tumbled over her tongue clumsily. She pushed her hair back. "No more...er..." She lifted the box. "Cereal."

"Alright." and he turned back to his toast.

Whew. Alright. That's it. Since when was she so disaster-prone? Rogue shook her head and poured herself another cereal, settling down to the milk already sitting at the table. The whole time, whatever conversation was going on, had gone on uninterrupted.

She forced herself to look at people other than Remy. No. Let's call him Gambit.

Alright, there's Scott and Jean feeding each other lovingly. Retarded. Kurt was happily eating his triple cheese thing with his fuzzy blue tail swishing about. Kitty was having cereal, like her, chatting with Kurt but looking at Colossus. What was his real name? Piotr. Yeah. Okay. This is boring.

***

Remy almost spluttered out his coffee when Summers said, "Open up, Jean." He should not be thinking like that in the morning, especially when Summers only meant her mouth so that he could sweetly place another pancake piece into her delicate little mouth. Their couple sweetness gave him tooth decay. Worst of it, he was sitting immediately opposite them.

He turned the channel to other characters at the table. Hmmm, looks like Lance may have competition. Nice one, Piotr. Piotr, you're blocking my view. He nudged Muscles to move an inch to increase his range of sight.

There she was. In the purple sleeves and tank top inside. Or was it a sports bra? The shirt was comfort cut and revealed nothing. Hmmm.

He wondered if she had _noticed _him. Well, the way she isn't making eye contact with him says it. He made a good move to act innocent this morning. As if nothing mattered. If he were to take the opportunity in the other direction, he would have been lucky to be left alive. Already Logan made that quite clear.

"Well, the kids will be down any minute." Ororo said. "Shall we?"

As the table was being cleared, Remy noticed Kitty whisper excitedly in Kurt's ear. Then Kurt shrugged his shoulders and whispered back. The two shot Remy the ultimate unfriendly look at the same time then Kitty walked over to Piotr.

"Hey, er, _Piotr_?" she asked with a shy smile. "Did I say your name right?"

"Yes, Kitty?" Cautious but sincere move from Muscles.

"I heard you needed to shop for, like, casual clothes or something. Me and Kurt know our way around..." she suggested.

Remy sensed Piotr look at him to ask if he would be alright to be abandoned. "Enjoy yourself, Muscles." was the unfussy reply.

Piotr politely gave the green light and as he made his exit, nudged Remy reassuringly. Then he thumbed in the direction of the kitchen sink. Remy let the slightest of smiles to signal that he got it. It was apparently Rogue's turn to do the dishes that morning...

When the coast was clear and his coffee was down to its last drop, he made his way to the sink. "_Excusez moi_, _cheré_."

"Oh, so that's your game, eh?" she immediately snapped.

"What?" he asked with innocent red eyes. "It's just a cup."

"You wait for everybody to disappear then you start the crap." She let him put the stupid coffee cup down. Which side did his lips touch? Hey, hey, personal space! Oh gawd, no. Get away from my left. Now.

He picked up the other sponge and a plate before she could protest. "Can I help?"

"Yeah, sure!" That came out more eager than she liked. Save yourself! "Whatever."

No reply from him as he took up plate after plate, glass after glass, cup after cup much faster than she did. She did not like _that_. Wait for it. Wait...

A slip of her fingers sent a small splash of water-and-soap across his bare chest. He yelped. "It's cold!"

"Oh," She worked hard not to laugh her butt off. "Sorr'eh."

"Nah, 's alright." He raised his fingers and flicked soap suds at her face. She dodged. The bubbles stuck out of her beautiful hair instead. He grinned.

"It was an accident, I swear." She dipped her hands into the basin full of water-and-soap. "But this ain't!" She cupped the water in her hands and tossed it at him.

He snatched up a plate and blocked most of the water from soaking his head. But his boxers got wet. "This is my only pair!" he protested at her, still grinning.

Rogue dipped her hands in again. "Oh, Remy." she cooed. "You shouldn't have told meh' that."

She aimed for his boxers. Splash! He protected them with the plate with another yelp. He waggled his index. "Remember, you asked for it!" He flung a plateful at her.

She was not fast enough to defend herself and her hands didn't help either. Her entire left side was doused down to her sneakers. Ah shit this! A laugh escaped her. "Oh my god, I hate you!"

"Not yet."

Splash! From him. Splash! From her. To her. To him. With a plate. With a cup. With a spoon. Back and forth. Back and forth. They yell. They laugh. Water, water everywhere. The tiles were soapy.

And Rogue made that wrong step. Whoops! She fell on her ass and slid toward Remy. He braced himself for the impact, but bedroom slippers could not go far in sticking him to the ground and he fell forward. Oof! He threw his hands forward to stop himself from actually falling on top of her. Wet hands plus wet floor equals still falling on her. Mmmph!

FULL. BREASTS.

"I'm sorry." He tried to lift himself off her. "I – I...sorry!" This time it was face first into her chest. _Merdé Merdé Merdé_(Shit shit shit)! This was not going well. If anyone comes in now... he will be screwed.

Rogue groaned in terror. His body was so warm against the cold, wet shirt that clung onto her skin.

This was all her dumb fault. Her cheeks blushed so hotly she hoped the layers of makeup served to hide the red. She quickly tried to raise herself up onto her elbows as he lifted himself off. But he fell back onto her, and at the new angle she hoisted herself to, the most unholy thing happened. She yelled, "Get off me!" Yes, get off before I get used to this feeling of your legs fitting between mine. This feeling that rushes up my spine and gives me these enjoyable goosebumps.

"Gettin'. Gettin'!" He slowly pulled himself up to tower over her on his knees. For a split moment in time, his eyes wandered over her from a most arousing angle. Her legs were bent up, her chest thrust forward and her thighs were apart. With her shirt wet, he could tell there was a sports bra.

As much as he wanted to do other things to her with his hand, he gave it to her to pull her up. She took it. Soon he got them on their feet, held onto her hand and he stepped them through the mess. Holding her gloved hand. A whole new world of desire formed in his boxers and his heart. His hand let her go when they were out of the kitchen, but his eyes were locked with hers. Hers were beautiful orbs of mesmerising grey he could stare into until old age took his eyesight from him. Then his ears alone will search for her Southern accent and sassy tone until he was sure, she was still his.

She cleared her throat and turned away, tucking her white streak of hair behind her ear.

The moment barely lasted a second. "Rogue –"

"Yeah?" She was pulling off her gloves and flicking it dry.

Yeah, what was he supposed to say? Thanks for the fall? Nice falling on you? "You owe me a dry pair." He pointed to his boxers.

She whipped her head around to glance down then up into his face. "Go buy 'em yourself."

"What if I don't know where?" Come on, come on.

"It's not like I shop for guys' underwear. Fact is I hate shopping anyway." She turned away before he could search his library of pick-me-up techniques for a reply. "Good luck finding it."

Suddenly, his hand itched to hold onto hers again. South pole must meet North pole. Undeniable. "Please?" he begged.

Rogue could not believe his tone. She looked at him. Just because he towered over her did not mean she did not feel the position of power over him he had put in her hands. But the heat from his bare hand penetrated through her leather-bound ones. _That_ made her rethink her decision. "Fah'ne. But only 'cause you look so pathetic."

Remy wanted to break into a frenzy of self-congratulations, run around the Mansion in his wet boxers and yell "YES!" to his heart's content. He grinned, "I'll buy lunch." He bent down to kiss the back of her hand.

She snatched it away and gave him her special I-hate-you-so-much-why-would-I-want-you glare. Oh, he loved that look! "Don't push your luck, Gambit. Ah' can always abandon you somewhere in the mall later."

"You won't do that to me, would you cheré?"

"Cheré this, cheré that... Go away!"

***

"Hey!" yelled Tabitha to no one in particular. The corridors were as empty as the kitchen. "What jerk wet the kitchen?!"

***

Logan was just walking up the stairs when he noticed Rogue walking back to her room. "Rogue? Why are you soaked?" He knew the Rat was up to no good when he left them alone in the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Logan." Rogue replied, plucking at her shirt. "At least I have spare, he doesn't even have spare boxers."

Logan smiled cruelly. Ah, that's mah' girl. "You goin' to the mall with Kitty?"

"Not really." That statement raised his brow. "I'm, er, goin' with Remy."

Eh?! But – hmmm. Well, she is a tough kid. She can take care of herself. Then there is something called handphones. "Fah'ne." He made a slighted face. "Anything, call home, alright?"

"Okay." And the young lady went on her way.

Logan sighed. She has grown up so fast. She had picked herself up so fast. From the confused girl who ran away from help to the young woman who walked with her head held high. He had first-hand witness of this miracle lady. LeBeau had no chance. No chance.

***

Remy knocked on Scott's door after blow-drying his boxers in the bathroom. The man-boy was the only one with similar body size as his. Although nowhere near his fitness level. "Eh, Summers."

The door opened to a much better composed leader-looking boy than this morning's shower and breakfast episode. "Yes?"

"Can I borrow some?" He introduced his half-naked but dry self. "Rogue's takin' me to buy some but I can't go walkin' in uniform."

"Er..." What is with the hesitation? Remy was not asking for underwear or socks. "Sweats and Polo, okay with you?"

"Anythin'. Thanks."

Remy emerged from his room in navy blue sweatpants and a gay-yellow Polo shirt, neither colour complimenting the dark hazel hair that he had. The black, reflective sunglasses he wore was the ultimate clash. Eh, screw it. These were not his clothes. Beggars cannot be Choosers, once said Jean Luc, his foster father. A lesson Remy learnt and retained.

When he got downstairs, Rogue was there, twirling a petite set of keys around her gloved finger, looking up at him. Her lips pressed together in hiding a laugh at his costume. Those rich lips...

"What that you got?" He cocked his head to the side. She has got a ride?

"We gotta get to the mall somehow." She looked uncertainly at her keys. "Ah' got this small scooter Kitty and Ah' used when we wanted to get aroun'."

"Sorry, Rogue." He raked his fingers through his hair. He just _might be_ a few sizes larger for the fit than her tiny friend. Then a light bulb appeared on top of his head. "Can I show you somethin'?"

He took her outside the Mansion grounds to the sign at the front gate "Institute for the Gifted". Rogue watched with a puzzled pout as he started pulling out the leafy branches of the bushes below the sign. Her pout became a wide-eyed stare as a sleek motorbike grew out of the plants.

"How did you hide it there?" she gasped. "And the bushes..."

"Nah. Don't worry about it." He carelessly re-stuck the branches into the ground, reducing the height of the bushes by half. "Nobody sees the bushes; they just read the sign and run for their lives." He thumbed at the sign as he said it.

That was too true. "Does Colossus know you have a bike?"

"Yeah." He pulled back another bush and the branch fell to the ground. Piotr and his inability to fix what he broke... "He's taken it in already. Must've been in the early mornin'."

Then he stepped back. He leaned his butt against the seat of his ride, looking deep into her eyes. "So," he grinned, "Your ride or _mine_?" He let the word leave his mouth with a smooth slur. "I'll let you drive..." He would love her to do the driving and he would have to hold on real _tight_ to her curves.

She crossed her arms. "Both." What? "You ride yours, I ride mine."

Oh. Wow. She is good. "If you like it that way, cheré."

Welcome to the X-Men.

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**Dirty little Remy. Naughty little Rogue. Or at least her thoughts are naughty naughty... Boxers! haha. If you like the chapter, if you love ROMY, review. =] No pressure.**

**AND TO ALL, A VERY MERRY BLESSED CHRISTMAS & HAPPY HOLS!!!**


	4. Boom Boom Pow

**Haha well, this chapter took time because it took thinking. Difficult thing to do, think. Especially when school is out. I lose my brain. "NOBODY MOVE! I dropped me brain..." quote Jack Sparrow. YAY JOHNNY DEPP!!!**

**Lucida Lownes:** She's a smart one. Very smart one. Aint no man gonna take her THAT easy. =] Thank you so

**Fostersb:** Thank ye for thy review! Yeah, in the original Xmen Rogue has emeralds, correct. In Evo, its grey. Check it on youtube =]

**Kii:** I cannot thank you enough =] The thing is, Rogue is not falling all over Remy for his love just yet. Dont worry, the time will come...not in this chap though. haha patience

**Thank you ALL READERS for reading, favouriting, alerting and ohgawd REVIEWING! Makes an author feel SO LOVED!  
****haha ENJOY!**

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Living the X-Men Life 04

"Starbucks."

"Coffee Bean."

"Star. Bucks."

"Coffee Bean."

"Why Coffee Bean?"

"_Why_ Starbucks?"

"It's the same thin', ain't it?" Rogue put her hands on her hips in frustration. How do other girls find shopping with guys romantic? At all.

"If it's the same, then let's Coffee Bean." he replied.

They stood between the two drink outlets, face to face, eye to eye. Remy held a couple of bags of his clothes. Rogue held a bag of music CDs and a pair of earphones with damn good bass. All purchases bought with Remy's money, maybe pick-pocketed from someone else but as long as the cash was in his wallet, he claimed it as his own.

Suddenly he sighed. "Alright. If you like Starbucks that much..." He started toward the outlet.

Cupid's little arrow shot guilt into her heart. Guess she owed him the choice. He was gonna pay for it anyway. "Er, I guess, Coffee Bean can't be all bad."

"You sure?" Before she could reply he smiled and took her arm to Coffee Bean. Oh, he definitely had planned to pull at her heartstrings. Stupid Cajun flirt. "Thank you, cheré."

"Ass." she commented back, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

She sat down to a hazelnut coffee ice-blend and he a mocha latte. After about five minutes of sipping and small talk, Rogue noticed Remy's fingers were playing with each other. Then his fingers would journey to his lips and he would look away from her, his eyes shifting from side to side. The signs were obvious. She had seen the symptoms before on some kids back when she was in Bayville High.

The man needed his smoke. "You can go ahead." He turned to her with widened eyes. The look of innocence. "Don't bluff meh'. Go ahead. Just don't invite meh'."

On Remy's face grew a real, genuine twist of a smile. Half glad, half sad. Rogue had never seen it before. Almost took her by surprise. "Thanks, Rogue." Leaving behind his drink and her, he disappeared into the crowd to take a puff out of her sight.

Rogue sipped her iced coffee. She glanced at the time on her phone. She glanced at people sitting around her or walking past. She sipped her coffee again. She looked at the time. She looked at people.

Fifteen lonely minutes later, a far more alive Remy LeBeau came striding toward her: the wonders of nicotine. "Sorry." he said, sitting down. A whiff of his cigarette breath invaded her lungs and she had a little cough. He immediately covered his mouth from her. "I always thought five mints were enough."

" 's alright." Idiot. But at least he tried. "So how many?"

" 'Bout three a day." He popped two more mints. He held up the box to her. She took one. He pocketed it. "Let's...?"

"Yeah."

On the highway that led straight to the Mansion, a black SUV grew into their side mirrors. Rogue recognised it as Jean's car. The tinted window rolled down and a roll of voices called her name. Most of them asking whether she was alright. When she managed to convince them, Jean sped up and left the two bikers in bigger-vehicle dust. Rich kid.

Rogue turned to Remy. He kept a straight face toward the road. Yeah right. As if he were stone. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Quick and unconvincing. Almost like he wanted to avoid the subject.

Too bad. She wanted to know how he felt. "You know what Ah'm talkin' about."

He opened his helmet lid, removed his sunglasses so that she looked into his hypnotic red circles. So that's why they (the Guild and the Rippers and the Assassins, although she never met the last bunch) called him _Le Diable Blanc_. The White Devil. But they were more mesmerising than terrifying, weren't they? She really wanted to draw closer to them than run ten miles away.

He said something that she was too distracted to catch. "Sorr'eh, what di'you say?"

He took a breath. "I said, they don' need'a make it so obvious."

Not like they can help it. You attacked us. You _were _the enemy. You kidnapped meh'. What else can Ah' add to the list? "Scott lent you his stuff. That says somethin'."

"He had not much choice."

"What, you pointed a card at 'im and raided his closet?"

He smiled the smile that melted her insides. "You think me like that?"

The same unusual throbbing reactivated itself between her legs. Stupid Cajun flirt. "Ah' don't think about you if Ah' could help it."

"Too bad." He drew his much larger, much sexier bike nearer to her. He was so close that his helmet gently knocked hers. Their clear lids touched. She could smell an arousing mixture of mint and a little bit of cig in his breath. "I do. All the time."

Rogue barely registered his backing away and his speeding ahead of her until the cloud of road dust he kicked up woke her up.

Stupid Cajun flirt! She worked her little scooter to catch up with him.

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Rogue closed her door and immediately took out her CDs and tried on the earphones. Oh wow, the bass! She sat on her bed and read over the lyrics to the metal songs as they played in her ear.

Then someone pounced her. She gasped then saw Kitty's playful face at her elbow. Aw man, what does she want? "What?" She pulled out the earphones.

"SO...?" she raised a thin, plucked eyebrow. "How'd it go?"

"Okay, Ah guess." Rogue started arranging her new albums.

"You guess?" Oh no, please don't ask. "C'mon, I want details!"

"Get outta mah' air!" Rogue pushed her, bouncing the bed. "You got your own room."

"Details first!" Kitty took her friend's hands. "Please? I won't tell."

Rogue knew she won't. Best friends don't rattle. Besides, nothing happened with Remy as crazy as Kitty's occasional escapades with Lance. So she spilled the juice.

"He paid for _everything_?" Kitty squealed. "Lance has gotta work it. I mean, I pay for most of it, although he totally doesn't like it and he _keeps_ saying he'll pay the next time but there's always a next time, you know? But then again, the Brotherhood doesn't have much to spare and they're relying on Pyro for cash. Lance told me. Piotr paid for today's shopping too, like for me and Jean and even for Kurt's socks! I guess the Acolytes aren't so bad. I mean, your CDs and the earphones must've been, what?, $80?"

"$96."

Ching-ching! Kitty's eyes reflected a register machine tallying the cost. "Omigosh!" She opened her gap to yatter some more about shopping.

Rogue hastily cut the subject short. "Yeah, they ain't so bad if Magneto ain't commandin' them."

"Oh yeah. What happened to him? Did Wanda say anything?"

"Wanda didn't wanna talk about it. And Pietro is Pietro, yah' know."

"Does..." Her voice ducked a pitch. "..._Remy_ know?"

"Maybe, Ah don't know." Then she realised what Kitty really meant. "What's with you?"

"You kept calling him Remy _the whole time_." Then her face turned serious, or the Kitty version of serious. "D'you have something for him?"

Rogue ran her tongue over her lips in contemplation. Tell her. No. Tell her. No. Yes. Argh. "Maybe, alright? Maybe." Kitty fluttered her eyelids. "Go away."

"Not until you admit it!" She took Rogue's hand again. "Everyone knows something happened between you two after that whole Blood Moon Bayou thing. You're different, you know. Or maybe you don't know. I know you're different! I mean, you left me on the biking trip like I was yesterday's shoes. Not like I'm mad with you or anything (she giggled) but I just _knew_ there was something else on your mind that day." She took a deep breath. Apparently she forgot to breathe. "Anyway, Gambit likes you. Everyone knows that. And if you like him back, what's the prob?"

"You've never been inside his head." Rogue snatched her hand back. Slowly she removed the glove and looked at her bare skin. "Ah donno if I'm jus' one of those other girls that catch his eye for sex appeals."

Kitty shook her head. "Logan will tear his butt off if he dare do that. Besides, why would he throw himself into the X-Men, where _nobody in hell_ likes him, excuse me, for, what, just sex appeal? C'mon Rogue!" Kitty hoped she hinted okay at her friend's mutation. A see-no-touch issue. It was a touchy subject. "Even Lance tried it out for me, as a person."

"Lance and Remy." Rogue held up two bare fingers. She slipped on her glove. "Different people."

"Same story!" Kitty chimed. "Maybe Remy's will be better?"

Maybe. Rogue secretly hoped, it would be more than maybe.

"So." She sat herself in front of Rogue with the Kitty-is-serious-now face. She took her hand. "Do you, Rogue, love Remy LeBeau, the lousy good-for-nothing Cajun?"

Rogue allowed a nervous smile over how her friend put it. The truth is there. There was no going back if she said it. There is all the going back if she refused. "Yes." she said it with a resolution that screamed ROGUE IS BACK.

Kitty squealed in highest pitch, threw her arms around the confessor of love and nearly strangled her.

The moment only lasted because another voice was speaking. In her head. Rogue heard another voice._ Been waitin' to hear you say that_. Don't get used to it. You're still a rat, she answered the psyche. _I like that_. _Now go tell the real me_. Dream on! _He does_.

"Rogue!" Kitty whispered excitedly, breaking her thoughts. "Go tell him now!"

"Ah' don't think –"

"– it's a good idea?" Kitty jumped off the bed and attempted to drag larger-sized Rogue too. "The sooner, the better, you know!"

"Okay, alright." If it would get Kitty off her case. "Ah'll go talk to 'im."

"Oh yeah! I rock!" Kitty danced in circles about the room as Rogue tried to rehearse a few lines to make sure she does not screw the moment up.

* * *

Remy went straight to his room to get out of the gay outfit and into his own straight-cut jeans, belt and tight-fitting top for starters. He tied his hair in a short, loose ponytail with some fringe hovering over his face. A pair of new easy sneakers on his feet, and he felt complete.

He headed into the lounge room with a pack of cards, figuring is he were to make a clean slate of himself, he had better be open to people with his casual time. The huge room had a few kids in it, their heads in laptops or books, all minding their own business. As soon as he took a step into the light, heads turned and nervous stares were directed toward him. Damn. Must be the eyes. He sat on the empty three-seat couch and laid his cards for a game of solitaire. One by one, they whispered to each other and disappeared through the numerous doors that led out. He was barely halfway through his game when the lounge emptied dry of company. This was not working out for him.

But he kept his butt there. You never know if some kind soul wanted to give him a chance.

Rogue.

Besides her! Oh, who was he kidding? Who else is there besides her?

"Hey there." A smooth, teasing voice of an old-enough-for-you teenager indicated the presence of Tabitha Smith. Remy straightened his back. He had read the X-Men files. Her profile had disaster written _everywhere_. Maybe staying his butt was not such a great idea.

"Hey." he croaked, lifting his head for the briefest of greetings as she sat next to him. Then he collected his cards and shuffled them like a regular player. No fancy tricks. No eye-catching stunts. But he knew she still had her sights on him. "You play?" he offered to get her attention off his person.

"Kinda. Though the Prof don't let us play cards. Something like 'No gambling under my roof'. Those unwritten rules, know what I mean?"

He let a half-laugh at the remark. Then he held out his cards to her in his palm. "Five card draw?"

Remy hoped for a players pat on the card pack to signal that they are with it. Fat chance. She took the opportunity to touch his hand. "I'm with." she smiled. Not a good sign.

But he was gonna be nice. He dealt five cards to each of them, set the remainder aside and settled into the couch with his pile. She shifted her little butt closer. He stayed his ground.

"Ready?" He looked up from behind his fanned out cards, already having picked two to go.

"Just a minute!" She eyed him from behind her fan, pulled out one and fanned herself with the rest.

It was not that she was unattractive. She was very attractive. So attractive. A cute little ass for a late teen with a daredevil heart. Not to mention the arched back that made her waist appear smaller and her chest larger. Hey, c'mon. He has a natural eye for female anatomy. But a crazy bitch was never a good idea. Remy knew that firsthand. The woman he was supposed to marry... Queen of Crazy. Not a card he liked at the moment.

He dealt them their exchange for new cards. Looking up, he noticed how her eyebrow was raised at her own set. A confident smile grew out before she slammed her cards face-up on the table. A set of Jacks and an Ace of Diamonds.

He nodded in approval. Chick's got luck. "Not bad." he stated then shuffled his set onto the table, showing off his skill with cards. A set of Kings and an Ace of Spades. A casual grin.

"Cheat!" she yelled. Naturally.

"Nothin' between my sleeves, Tabby." Then he slid out a Two of Clubs from the back of his hand.

"Whatchya call me?" Her eyes suddenly sparkled.

"Er, that's your name ain't it?" Uh oh. It was her nickname he had overheard from the kids.

"More like my pet name, Remy." She shuffled closer.

He was cornered like the rat he was between her and the sofa arm. Speak, homme, speak! "How'd you find my name?"

"Don't tell Prof McCoy or Bobby, but the computer code was freak easy to crack." Then she addressed the air. "So sorry, guys!"

A hacker. A criminal. An X-Man recruit. Boom Boom was a piece of trouble he did not need. Though her long legs were pretty nice to look at. He could not help but notice. "Mm." he answered. "Pass me all 'em cards."

She took them up and was about to put them into his hand when she suddenly snatched them back. An up-to-something grin stretched on her dirty-blonde face. "Hey, show me some of those card tricks everyone's so scared of. I heard Jean was the first to be scared shitless!"

He laughed at her statement then leaned on the sofa arm in his recall. Yeah, the first time Magneto let his Acolytes out of the HQ to face the X-Men and Brotherhood, he threw a card toward a group with the goth in it. The redhead took two seconds to scream a "RUN!!!" before it exploded and sent the kids stumbling. He felt like laughing at them, if Magneto did not make it such a serious business. At their age, Remy was a Thief-in-training: murdering, stealing, cheating, fighting until he was bleeding and bruised, then crawling home to a whipping if he had lost to another crime family. "Yeah. You weren't there. So who told you the story?"

"Tricks first." She hung the cards before his face.

He took it and slipped the Two into the pack. Without a word, he let fly the deck of cards across his face. He then flew them over his head with his right hand and they returned in a neat pile into his left. "_Voilá_."

"Nah!" she said with a dismissive wave. "I've seen casino goons do better than that!"

"You've _been_ to a casino?" he replied in disbelief.

"Yeah!" Her pitch rose to prove her point.

He fingered a card on the top of the pile thoughtfully. "Sit over there." He gestured to the end of the couch.

"Why should I?" Defiant little girl.

"I'm gonna land this card on your head. Distance adds the challenge." He gestured her to move away. From him. Ah, good. She sat on the couch arm opposite. "Right." he drawled in his Southern accent, narrowing his eyes to measure the distance. "Stay still." He tossed the card, applying only a small force so that it rightfully perched atop her blonde hair.

"NO WAY!" she yelled, taking down the card and feeling it over. He shrugged his shoulders. Buy it or don't, he did it. "Remy..." She shot him a half-lidded gaze. He did not like that singsong tone. She twirled the card around. The Queen of Hearts. Oh, _merdé_ (shit). That's right, that card always sat at the top of his face-down pile. The one that got him outta a whole lot o' jams? Jammed now.

"Ah, thanks." He recovered himself and reached over to take it back. His fingers grasped one end and pulled. No release. Her fingers held the other end. He pulled again.

That was it. He was right where she wanted him. He should have let it go. Gave up that rectangle before she caught him with her lips. He broke away with an inhale. _Dieu_ _sauver moi _(God save me)_!_ She grabbed him by his ears and crashed a second time. Remy would have pushed her off if he were not a ladies' man; the definition was a man who loved ladies. In this way. Before long, there was her tongue exploring his mouth uninvited. His body relaxed. It was coaxing. She took advantage of his faltering to slide her hands from his ears down his neck, over his shoulders –

"Bloody FLIRT!" An explosion behind the couch was followed by a powerful BANG of the door. The angered cry belonged to only one person in the world. His world. Remy, you've damned blown it.

He shoved Tabitha Smith away, throwing off her arms, dropped his cards, rolled off the couch onto the carpet, scrambled to his feet and sprinted for his life. He tore open the door and squeaked in a voice husky from his stolen kiss "Rogue!"

She refused to turn and continued her storming through the corridor.

"I'm sorry!" He caught up with her and took her arm. She did not shake it away. Or shrug it off. She turned, clenched his arm, locked it then tripped him off his feet. He landed most ungracefully on his tailbone. He rubbed the hurt while lying on the floor, looking at her. "I deserve that."

"_Glad_ you know." she snarled, fists clenched by her side.

"How much did you hear?" he timidly asked.

"'Tricks first.' eh?" Remy could kill himself at that point.

"Rogue, let me explain –"

"Talk to yourself!!!" Her voice broke. "Ah don't wanna see you! Get outta here!" He pulled to his feet and tried to pacify her. "Just leave me alone! In fact, just LEAVE!"

And she left him, standing there, knowing where he went wrong.

_Merdé_.

Welcome to the X-Men. Now get back out.

* * *

**Ouch.**

**Review!  
Much love and all. =] Dear readers.**


	5. Dinner at Midnight

**HAHA i'm back! And i am going to apologise coz i'm gonna go down-under Australia until the 24****th**** for a blessed holiday. god i've been waiting! THANK YOU FOR YOUR KINDNESS! LOVE YOU!!!**

**Fostersb: Old habits die hard hard hard. thanks for telling me anyway, i'm always confused between using grey or green. =]**

**Lucida Lownes: Haha nice one. =]**

**ColorCoated: haha thanks for the support dude =]**

**Kii: don't underestimate the Half-Pint haha**

**helenxxx: done! thank ye =]**

**roguey21: i thanketh thee with all me heart =]**

**ENJOY ROMY**

* * *

**Living the X-Men Life 05**

Straightaway after dinner that night, Remy could only watch Rogue retreat into her room. Kitty went with her, clinging onto her arm affectionately. Ah'm sorry, Rogue.

"Ah'm gonna call Wanda." He overheard her say. Ah'm sorry, Rogue.

"I'll get my laptop." Kitty said. Rogue shot her a why. "Webcam? You know, video conversation? And we'll need nail polish."

Ah'm sorry, Rogue.

* * *

It was beyond graveyard hours. Wanda had long since gone offline and Kitty phased through the other girls' rooms to get to hers, being too tired to walk the corridor. Rogue's fingers flipped the pages of her horror-romance novel, once in a while admiring her metallic purple fingernails, although in contrast with her pale skin looked a darker colour shade than it was. She reached the end of the tale.

The story was not very absorbing anyway. Girl meets guy. They lust after each other and they go to the guy's place. Then supernatural things happen. In the end, the guy could not save the girl and so both die and haunt the house together. What sort of cheesy crap is this? The writer must have been bored or something.

Her stomach scolded her with a rumble. She had absolutely no appetite with _his stupid face _across her and only ate the mashed potato Kurt dumped onto her plate in his attempt to get his sister to eat. He was a real sweet guy, nagging her like an older brother and pestering her like a younger brother at the same time. Amanda (a human girl Kurt met in Bayville High) was so lucky.

Anyway, she was starving now. She would raid the fridge for leftovers to heat up. So Rogue went downstairs to the kitchen and lucky her – there was... more mashed potato! No chance anyone would give up that last meat patty or baked fish or tomato pasta or... yeah, all that food. Never mind, toasted bread and cheese. And the potato.

When she turned around to finally settle down with her food, in came a head of brown hair from the darkness into the light. She stopped. He looked up and stopped. He gave her a small half-salute and turned to go.

"Wit' all that shoppin' we did," she heard herself say. "You end up in your boxers again." What the hell? Was she _that_ pissed with him she would scold him for something like that? Yeah, she was pissed.

"Didn't think anybody would be awake. Sorry." He drawled and took a step out of her sight.

She put her plates down and one hand on her hip. "Ah'm not done wit' you." She tapped the tabletop in annoyance, signalling him to get back here.

He stepped back in. Their eyes locked for an epic moment. Neither knew what to say or do that would not hurt the other. Rogue found that especially hard. Her vocabulary of sharp and threatening words were at the tip of her tongue, a deadly arsenal waiting to be unleashed.

He laid his hand on the doorpost. "Ah didn't eat much either."

"Really." She was not impressed. What happened to all the witty talk.

"Look," He approached the table, opposite where she was. "Would you believe me if Ah told you Ah didn't do what Ah did?"

"What the hell are you gettin' at?" That ain't witty, that was irritating.

"Ah wouldn't done it if the choice was left to me."

"Sayin' Tabitha could've bite your head off and you're fah'ne wit' it?" Bullshit. Pure bullshit.

"She kissed me, but Ah gave nothin' back, Rogue."

"You didn't stop her either!" The potato was nice and hot. Rogue's fingers itched to land a pile on his filthy poker face.

"Ah would kiss _you_ back."

Rogue stared hard. What is wrong with him? Is he stupid or deaf? Likely, both. "Ah've been thinkin' that ova' wit' 'em."

"What d'you mean?" He leaned over the table.

"Ah didn't mean what Ah said." She bit her lip. Well, she does like him. But what he did was damn-right unforgivable. "You don't need t' go anywhere."

"And the bad news, cheré?" He bent his head lower to meet her eye.

"Don't call meh that if you're just gonna play meh." Firm and strong. Yeah, that got him standing back up straight.

"Rogue," His face pressed into a very serious look. "Ah ain't gone across the world undercover to play yer' heart like a card. Ah just didn't know Tabby was gonna grab my ears first chance she get." He put both hands on the table.

She blew the strand of hair out of her face. Tabby, he called that _thing_ Tabby. Not Tabitha, Tabby! "But you let her! How am Ah supposed to believe _that_?" She stood back and folded her arms. Not serious enough, Remy.

"Then," His voice became deeper and softer, almost coaxing her into it. "You've jus' gotta trust me."

She loosened her gaze a bit and dropped her arms by her sides. Alright, is he trying something like a genuine apology? "Ah did trust you, Remy." You killed my trust.

He ran his fingers through his hair, as if contemplating over what she said. "What d' Ah need t' do?" _To earn it back_. Those last words never made it out of his proud mouth.

Good question. "Ah donno." It was her turn to rake her hair.

"Ah'm gonna try. For us, cheré." He paused to run his tongue over his lips in thought. Or was it because he had the permission to call her 'cheré' again. "Will you give _us_ a livin' chance?"

"Convince meh' why Ah should." Let's see what this Cajun boy can do for his do-over.

The grin grew back on his apology-sober face. Daringly, he walked over to her and picked up a stray kitchen cloth. She stepped back in suspicion. What is he up to? Well, let him try – he is the only one who is gonna be in a coma by touching me. And she was not going to carry him to the hospital room. He held the rough cloth over his palm. He took hers with that hand, kneeling by her feet. "You might like us." He pulled the cloth over her hand, holding it with both hands. "'Us' has its reward." He lowered his head onto the back of her hand, closed his eyes and Rogue could feel warm breath reaching her skin. The gentle pressure his lips exerted moved along her knuckles as the heat continued down her fingers. Tantalising.

Familiarly unusual throbbing sensation turned on beneath the area his face was close to. _She_ was turned on. By a fit, half-naked man that she happened to love.

"Urgh!" She snatched her hand back, tossing the towel behind her. But not before a shade of pink warmed up her cheeks. She also could not help a curled smile and quickly turned away. Oh gawd, she was supposed to be pissed with him! This was a serious moment! "You wanna get yourself killed, Gambit?"

"Naw." he drawled in his playful, Southern accent and stood up. "Ah jus' like t' take that risk."

She scoffed, tucking her white strand behind her ear. Stupid Cajun flirt. She sat down to her food, now less warm than she liked.

The fridge door opened behind her and the sudden chill tickled her bare belly. "So what did you leave for meh to eat?" he asked with his brown head in the ice box.

* * *

Remy would not take her no for an answer. He insisted. His heart practically jumped when she rolled her eyes and let him walk her to her room. They were alone, in a dark corridor. If it was not for her mutation, he would have caught a good one right there and then. The temptation still stood anyway, long and hard in his boxers.

They turned into the girls' wing of the Mansion. Invisible signposts said "Male Entrance Forbidden". But Remy was skilled in the art of sneaking. Walking his cheré to her room, there is no danger in that.

"You're gonna die if anyone comes out." In the dark, he saw the pale shadow of her hand point to the many doors they passed as they drew up to hers at the end.

He tilted his head to the side. The faint moonlight entering from the window illuminated her skin. "You're the one makin' things dangerous showin' all that body."

"It's mah pyjamas." It was just the mini shirt revealing her stomach. But he made his glowing red eyes were focus on her so it made her feel like her other assets were open for show. "Nobody's supposed to see 'em." She strutted into her room and held the door half-closed. Ah, he knew she wanted him.

Even if she can't see it, he grinned anyway. This is too good to pass off. "Nobody said Ah can't."

"Stupid Cajun flirt." He did not have to look closely to see her lips curl up. Did she think he could not see her?

"Goodnight, Rogue." he said in his deepest, softest tone. That should get her tonight.

He heard her fingernails tap a rhythm on the door. "Goodnight Remy." She gently closed the door.

An ear-piercing squeal behind him. "OH MY GAWD!" Remy's eyes darted to see Kitty's head sticking out of the wall.

Why did she do that?! He swirled his head around in panic. The many doors of death opened and curious girls poked their sleepy heads out to see what the commotion was. A certain white haired lady was the first to yell.

"GAMBIT!" Storm was a nice woman to him so far, but at the moment, a strong breeze began to blow toward him. "What are you doing here?" Damn these eyes!

Kitty phased through the wall and squealed "He's outside Rogue's room!"

_Mon Dieu_. He's gonna get it now. He glanced for help at Rogue's closed door. "Ah can explain, ladies –"

Rogue opened her door at the same time he spoke. "Guys –"

"Get out!" Jean yelled at Gambit. The window at the end of the corridor opened. He was lifted off his feet and thrown out from the second storey before he could say another word. He landed in a roll. Looking up from where he fell from, the window panes slammed together as female voices chattered. Rogue's scolding was the most distinctive to his ears.

He slowly got to his feet, brushing the grass and dew from his ass.

He heard the creak of the window opening. "You alright?" called a Southern angel from above.

"Ah'm fah'ne, cheré." Just fine.

Welcome back to the X-Men.

* * *

Kitty slunk back into her room after Rogue told her to "Quit the squealin', it's annoyin'!" Why was she so pissed? I mean, Playboy of the Year was hanging outside her door! She could swear his hand was on the handle too. It was her duty to make sure her friend was not gonna get hurt. So much she gathered from listening to Rogue after dinner. Wanda said the same thing she did, that they would do their best to help her out any way they can. Wasn't she just doing her job then?

Kling! That's it!

Something's up. Rogue would usually yell "What the hell?!" when there was trouble in the middle of the night. Being her roommate for two years, she had noticed that. Instead, she was perfectly awake when she came out of her room.

Oh no, he who just played her friend was gonna get things undone that easily! Tomorrow, Kurt and her are gonna do some research into this guy.

* * *

Jean put her hands on her hips in triumph.

"Why'd the hell did you throw him out the window?" Rogue yelled at her.

"Guys are not supposed to be here!" she yelled back. Seriously, this girl is so irrational and impulsive. Doesn't she know who that is? "And that was Gambit!"

"So?" That retort. SO unbecoming!

"What do you mean 'So'? He could've hurt you!"

"The only person gonna die by touchin' meh' is him! Why do you care, _Jean_?" The imprudent girl stalked to the window and called out.

Jean frowned and took her exit.

What was Gambit up to anyway? If he is walking so freely about at night, and to Rogue's room, there was certain trouble brewing. The Professor is not going to like this when she tells him. Or maybe not. Maybe Scott and her should divulge more solid evidence tomorrow before saying anything. Yes, they would do that.

Yawn.

* * *

**Is Remy is trouble or what? Tune in next time, specifically, after the 24****th****.**

**Have a holly jolly molly CHRISTMAS! presents, people, Jesus, food and everything that matters!**


	6. Chit Chatting with Remy LeBeau

**Living the X-Men Life 06**

"He was _where_?" Kurt's fur stood to hear it.

"At her door." Kitty repeated. "Can you believe it? And after the whole Tabitha thing!"

"What's he up to?" Kurt rubbed his fuzzy face in worry. He whined, "Rogue's in trouble, I know it!"

"So I have a plan." Kitty had an immediate reply that sent a small pang of jealously through him. He meant, he loved Amanda and all, but Kitty was more than just a friend to him too. "You think Piotr will mind a couple of questions?"

* * *

"...and Rogue defended him!" Jean finished her story. "One moment she was mad at him and the next, she yells at me. _He_ was the one who stepped into forbidden territory!"

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "Jean, I think you're making a big thing out of it."

"What do you mean?" She got defensive.

"Maybe he was just walking her to her room? I do that too." He put his arm around her.

"That's 'cause we're together. So it's fine but," she paused. "Can we trust Gambit?"

* * *

Remy Lebeau sat on the same couch that got him in trouble the day before, this time with good old Piotr at the other end. With nothing in particular to do they decided to stick together for some cards. But they were not alone for the lounge was occupied by half a dozen of the younger mutant students who did not seem to mind their presence – including Tabitha. Her too frequent occasional glances at him caused his mouth to jam up tight and Piotr was too polite to break the silence.

A sudden _poof!_ of smoke caused the whole room to turn their heads toward Piotr. Kurt was perched on the sofa back between the men. He glanced to and fro them then turned away from Remy.

"Hey Piotr, can you – er – help Kitty out, _man_?" he asked. Remy lowered his cards thoughtfully. What's the boy nervous for?

Piotr seemed to think a little. "What happened, my friend?"

Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. "Er... Kitty is learning a new receipe – Russian! – yeah, and she's wondering if you could help her out... You know, see if it works." Remy's lip curled back; the boy could never keep a secret; he had no idea how to lie right. If he wanted the dirt, _go and dig it_.

But Piotr was more gracious than Remy was. "Of course." And passed his cards to Remy, who shuffled them around, and left toward the kitchen.

Remy sighed with a confident air and selfishly tossed his body to stretch over the entire couch. The kids muttered under their breath, nudging each other and Tabitha. From the corner of his eye, she looked disappointed. They must have wanted to witness a replay of yesterday's drama. Too bad, kids!

Just to mock them, he started to perform his infamous card tricks. He sent the cards five feet in the air to land in his other palm, flipping them there, shuffling them between his hands, etcetera.

"You have no life." commented an angel.

He sat up to greet her. "Now I do." He took his legs off the couch, indicating that the space was for Rogue to put her nice little butt.

She looked like she was going to. A step forward then she stepped back. Her grey eyes glanced at the region over his head and a frown appeared on her lips. "Yeah sure." she said to him, her stare redirected to him. "Later, Gambit." She turned her heels and stalked out of the room.

_Gambit?_ What? He felt he should say something until he noticed the kids looking in the same direction she had and fleeing the scene together too. He stood up in slight anxiety. What is going on? Not that he was a nervous man, but the suddenly cold atmosphere sent a chill up his spine as whatever the others saw must be approaching him from behind. Then when whatever it was spoke, he understood why. And wished he had fled too.

"Hey Gambit," said Scott Summers. "Could we talk?"

_Mon mère_ (Oh mother). Remy turned reluctantly to face The Couple. _Jean and Scottie, sitting in a tree._ "Let me guess," He raised his palms in lazy defence as the two moved to sandwich him between them. "About last night?"

"Kind of." replied Jean. "I think it would be easier if we sit down and talk."

They might as well have asked him to fetch a stick the way he sat like an ordered dog. Woof.

"What were you doing?" questioned Jean.

"You know we're not allowed." said Scott.

"Don't act dumb." said Jean

"How stupid do you think we are?" questioned Scott.

Remy had his mouth open like a fish as they fired at him point blank range, not given the chance to say anything. He turned to Scott to answer that last question. _Where would you like me to begin, Summers?_

"Don't answer that." said Scott.

Remy glanced to the side then back at him. What the hell. "Then what d'you want me to say?"

Jean huffed. "Answer our questions."

"Your boyfriend said don't answer." Remy replied dryly.

Scott huffed. "Answer her."

Woof. Remy turned to look at Jean, noticed the hard look she was giving him and he smiled, smugly. Her eyebrows had knotted together to cause stress lines across her forehead meant she was trying to penetrate his mind. "You can't touch this." He tapped his head. "You telepaths."

"And why not?"

Remy kept his face as straight as he could, despite the violent nudging of the answer 'Because you can't, bitch.' Instead he said, "Because you. Just. Can't."

"I heard it has to do with the kinetic energy that your power causes." she replied, an evident strain of keep-calm in her voice.

He shuffled his cards in his irritation. "Seems to me you know more about mah' powers than me, _mademoiselle_. So why ask?"

"Can't I confirm?"

"Can't you get to the (bloody) point?" He held his tongue from swearing at her.

"Hold it Jean." Scott interrupted. To Remy, he said, "Don't you know _that_ is no way to talk to a lady?"

Remy turned a pair of menacing eyes on him. "More than _you_ know." Then the smug smile came back as he added, "You don't know the first thing about it."

As he expected, the ultimate expression of hurt manhood clouded Scott's face. Even his voice bore the I-must-defend-my-maleness tone. "You –"

"You told your woman to 'hold it'...?" Remy shook his head dramatically. A man should never say 'hold it' to a woman unless he meant her to – back to the topic at hand now. "Try: Jean, allow me, love." Then he turned to Jean who blushed at the attention he had just given her. He would rather Rogue turning pink at the cheeks sitting next to him, but hey, a woman getting hot is a woman getting hot. He put on his victory smile. "Better?" He had to force himself not to turn away to see that green look on Scottie's face.

Jean straightened out her features. "Back to the point! We were discussing you, and more importantly, your intentions?"

"Excuse me." All three heads turned to Professor Xavier who had entered. "I'm sorry Jean. Would you like to continue first?"

"Oh, no." She humbled herself before her mentor. "Go ahead Professor."

"Mr. LeBeau, would you step into my office for a moment?"

Suddenly everybody wants to talk to me. "Sure." He was all too glad to get away.

* * *

_In the Professor's office..._

The Professor said, "Mr. LeBeau, just a diversion question."

Anything you ask is better than them. He replied, "Remy is enough for me, Professor."

"How do you find the X-Men then, Remy?" asked the Professor, with a twinkle in his eye, which Remy saw with suspicion. "Not just as an Institute, but as people."

He had better answer carefully. Although he had nothing to fear from telepaths, there was something going through that man's mind he did not think he wanted. "Pretty not bad. Ah' expected a worse hell from being an Acolyte. But on a whole, Ah'm not dead yet." He gave a reassuring grin with the last statement.

"You appreciate the treatment. Good." The Professor nodded. "What do you think of the people? Especially the younger students."

Jean and Scott could get off his ass. Logan could stop being paranoid about him. Storm was nice. Tabitha should have her hormones removed. Oh, but Rogue was just fine, Professor. "Hospitable." he blurted out his answer to stop the train of thoughts.

"Can you connect with them?"

Remy took a breath. What does the man want from him? "Ah suppose so."

"Good. Very good. I needed to know that they trust you enough before I ask you a favour."

A favour. He knew it. What else could it be. Whatever it was, he was obliged to say yes, being a freeloader. "What do you need, Professor?"

"Would you do this Institute the honour of teaching its students?"

The question came at such a complete surprise that Remy had to blink. Twice. It was absurd. It was crazy. It was the weirdest thing anybody had ever asked of him. Him. A teacher? Good morning, class? Ho ho. "What could Ah possibly teach 'em?" He kept his lip steady, but he could hear the freak-out leak into his voice.

"I hoped, the French language." His manner was so straightforward and fact-flat Remy had to swallow a twitch. "You see, the kids – since they have been pulled out from regular school – have been taking general academic subjects under Scott and Jean, who have had graduated." Remy remembered that. He and the other bad guys had ruined it for them when chasing after Mesmero-possessed Rogue. So the duo had gotten their certs after all. "Subjects like Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, English, Geography, History and Social Studies. However, their second languages are not strong enough for them to be able to teach."

Remy whistled in dead admiration. That was quite a load for a young couple to carry. He disliked them, but the work was serious work. "Ah would help you, Professor, however, truth be told, Ah never went to school myself."

The Professor's eyebrows jumped up. Remy did not shrink back in embarrassment. If he _had_ gone to school, he would have been expelled the same day anyway. No fag with a chalk in his hand would have been able to control boy-Remy. "Hmmm! I had not considered that. Mind if I divulge your means of education?"

"The Thieves taught me the basics – readin', writin', countin' – when they took me in. They did not see the good in sending their kind under any other influence than their own. Crime family is family, they taught us. 'Sides, there're other things to learn than the history of America." He stopped at what they taught. This might be his chance. His one and only chance to escape this _favour_. "Ah'm sorry, Professor."

"But do you know your French, Remy?" The Professor seemed eager to continue the topic.

Leave me alone, _monsieur._ "Yeah, Ah do."

"Will you teach?"

"Ah can't."

"If you can?"

Remy paused thoughtfully. Again, he was obliged to say yes, no? "Sure."

"Are you sure?" The twinkle returned into Xavier's eye. Remy had nervous gibes about that now. "I will only ask once."

He nodded slightly.

"Excellent." The Professor wrote something in the huge schedule pad on the table. "We can have you start next Monday."

Somebody skin me alive. "Professor," He leaned forward to make his point clearer. "Ah. Don't know. How."

"I can take care of that. Attend classes with the kids under Scott and Jean for the rest of the week." Remy wanted to faint in his chair. Nononononono. "If you need any more guidance, I can request them to help you in your lesson plans as well."

_Jesu._ He swore to himself. Where was the nearest cliff he could jump off right now? Oh yes, right on the property. Could he make it? Was it too late? "Thank you, Professor." He rolled his tongue inside his mouth to stop the vulgarities from escaping his lips. "I'll just go for the (Pause. Kill me. I am going to die anyway.) the classes."

"Tomorrow is Friday." He replied with a little concern. "The last day of class for the week. You're sure you can familiarise yourself in that time?"

"Can do." He forced himself to crack a smile.

"Alright." Xavier looked slightly less confident, but continued, "If you say so. Thank you very much, Remy." He stretched out his hand.

Remy stiffly took it and excused himself from the office, closing the door with ginger fingers. Welcome to the X-Men.

* * *

Before Kitty could ask anything, Colossus answered her. "He likes poker, jazz, good clothes, fast bikes, whiskey and Rogue." He smiled kindly at their attempt at deception. "What else do you need to know?"

"Oops." muttered Kitty. She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck shyly. "I guess you had us all figured out already, huh?"

"You are too young to attempt to deceive men like us." Piotr turned serious. "So what information do you intend to gain from me?"

Kurt could not contain himself no more. Rogue is his sister and no one is to even touch a hair on her head, or anywhere else for that matter! They would probably die if they tried, but, you know, still. "Everything!"

Piotr looked thoughtful and the two could see the info shuffle themselves in order. "Remy LeBeau... You want to know _everything_ about Remy LeBeau."

"Yes, yes!" Kitty urged him on. "Like, how many girlfriends has he had? Does he, like, get drunk all the time? How much does he love Rogue compared to those other girlfriends? Oh, and how old is he?"

"Age... I am not sure but you may safely assume he's in his late twenties." Piotr thought a little. "He loves Rogue enough to see her face more than twice – he usually never takes women seriously. He does not get drunk often but you would know he is when he brings home an equally drunk woman or begins to dance in his underwear on top a table. You may laugh, but it is true. I myself have caught him in the act. It is very difficult to stop him once he is fixed on doing something. I cannot say how many girlfriends he had, but you may have noticed that he is very flirtatious."

"Yeah, we have." Kitty managed to say huskily after she stopped laughing. "Is that it?"

"I cannot see how much more you need to know to judge his character."

"He is not evil, _right_?" Kurt asked with a worried eye. "He's not gonna explode things on purpose or rape Rogue or anything like that right?"

Piotr gave him a strange look. "As much as I know of him, he is not the most noble of us, but not the most dishonourable either. Perhaps he misplaces his loyalties, after all, he is a mercenary, but he has no intention of hurting those whom he has a care for. Remember, he kidnapped Rogue that once to save his foster father, but you may rest assured that he would have taken care of her after that. What he would have done exactly, escapes me."

"So you're sayin' he would do the most stupidest stuff but he'll love Rogue to the very end?" Kitty asked.

"I cannot say no."

"Can you say yes?" Kurt asked.

"More than I can say no." Then he hastily added, "I have only known him for two years, I have no full judgement of him but... He is quite harmless."

At those words, Kitty and Kurt went scouting to find that character.

* * *

Remy hardly walked a couple of steps before he heard X-Men approaching.

"There he is!" Kitty pointed at him walking slowly from the Professor's office. "Hey, er, Remy?" He looked at them both, towering over either. What do _they_ want? "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

He blinked curiously. What? Okay. "Thanks." he answered blandly.

Kurt seemed to perk up. "Ya, _man_. But you're alright with us now." What did Piotr tell them...

"Cos' we like, talked to Piotr and he says you're pretty harmless." Oh God, _what did _Piotr tell them? So it made him a better image, but what image was it? Surely his strip dancer side is not a part of the picture!

Kurt seemed to give Kitty another type of look. Piotr must have told them about his sex life by the intensity of it. "Yeah." The boy said then aimed a dirty look at him. "But you watch it, mister! She's my sister!" Ah, of course.

"Kurt! Chill!" Kitty squeaked. "Kurt's tryin' to say that we'll all be cool until –"

"Till I screw Rogue up." He finished it for her. No need to hide the fact kids. We all know where a girl and a guy ends up – the nearest furniture. "Got it."

"So you're thinking it!" The expected response from the brother.

"Kurt!" Kitty whine-scolded. To Remy, she said, "Yeah, something like that."

Bah! Too easy. "A gentleman don't never go where he's not invited. If Rogue doesn't want it," He shrugged his shoulders. "I won't do it."

The trick worked. A smile of innocent approval grew on Kurt's face. "Cool, _man._"

"Alright!" Kitty added before she and Kurt headed their way. "Okay, see you around Remy! Oh! And F.Y.I., Rogue's in the library."

Ooh. He could not help but grin. "Thanks." And this time he meant it.

"And Tabby too..." Kurt added more before stifling a laugh with Kitty as the two bounded off somewhere, leaving Remy rather alone in the corridor.

His grin twisted on him. "Thanks for the warning."

* * *

**YEAH WELL! I know i havent uploaded in _forever_ SO taaaa-daaaaa! if you find it too short, REVIEW! holiday season after holidays have been chaos, savvy? Savvy.**

**HAVE A GOOD NEW YEAR, READERS**

**- peace out mates. =]**


	7. Remy at School

**Haha anyway the chapter we've all been waitin for! and i just realised, it's not 'chere' but it's 'cheri'. haha ENJOY!**

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Living the X-Men Life 07

Piotr caught Remy in the kitchen, who was making a sandwich out of everyone's sight, a smile tugging at his lips. "Remy," he began, the smile widening on his broad face, the slightest tune of amusement in his deep Russian voice. "Please tell me you are not attending school classes, my friend."

Remy lazily swung his head around. _Must have been Scottie and Jeanie. The Professor told them and now the whole Institute must be laughing their butts off. _"Good news travels fast, eh?"

Piotr merely shook his head and said before leaving, "Take this easy."

A loud guffaw resounded as soon as he disappeared out of sight that Remy jerked up his head. Asshole. It was not everyday Piotr laughed, let alone _at somebody_ for God's sake. This must be some great cosmic joke.

Another set of footsteps on the tiles set his annoyance level higher up the charts as he helped himself to lunch, his back to whoever it was.

"So what did Scott and Jean want with you?" Rogue asked.

He knew he could count on her, at least her. "'Bout last night. At your door."

She sat herself down opposite him from the table. Oh yeah. The immediate temptation sent a rush through him. "What they say?"

He chewed thoughtfully. No, not now, conversation is what it calls for. "No idea. Ended with Professor callin' me up." Then he noticed the sudden glitter of humour in her eye. Looks like she found the great cosmic joke funny too. "Not funny, Rogue."

Her face remained masked. "Everyone's laughin' out there that you're goin' for classes. Why'd you agree to teach anyway?"

His ego sprung up. "Make myself useful? It's borin' sittin' doin'nothin'."

"Borin'." Her voice was laced with scorn. "You've only been here two days. Take it as R&R time before real X-Men life starts."

He scoffed slightly. "Battle stimulations, target practice, chores. How excitin' can it get?"

"Yeah, say that while you're doin' laundry for twenty-one people. Includin' bedsheets." She was tuned on her irritated channel.

Now would be a good time to catch her off guard. Under the table, he touched her calf with his as he invaded her inner leg space. "Maybe it'll be fun for two to check out the city. A little tour 'round."

She looked up at him, a flicker of what he would call desire passing in her eyes. "Ah' don't think so." He felt her foot push him aside.

He put his foot back. "It could just be you and me. But if you like a crowd..." Slowly, it travelled up her knee. She barely flinched from his touch but her head lowered so her eyes glared at him from behind a tuft of white, daring him to do more. "It can always be the three of us."

"Like who?" Teasingly, her other leg encountered his unused one, going beyond his knee, sending a jolt to his drawers.

His lip curled back as he sank into the chair to stretch out further. "You, me and my bike." He stroked her calf tenderly.

"And why should I." She momentarily closed her eyes. The flicker in them had sparked a little, but she hooded the full effect behind her eyelids. Then she flashed them open and kept obstinate eye contact with him. Her foot retreated down. The motion was so calmly delivered the jolt was even stronger going out than coming in. Oh, _cheré_, Ah'm loving you so much right now. "Ah don't owe you anythin'."

"So you don't mind the bike, eh?" He hooked his foot behind her knee and stroked the back of her calf.

"Ah didn't say yes yet, Remy." she said, her voice a little softened.

"Ah thought I was Gambit?" He kept a measured pace in his stroking.

That got her trying to force back a smile. She succeeded, in less time than he would have liked. "Remy," She removed her legs from him and crossed them aside. She seemed to be thinking something over. Deep thoughts.

He finished his last bite and dusted the crumbs from his fingers, waiting. Patiently.

"Nothin'." Monotonous. Quick. Short. She got up, without even a see-ya-later glance.

He sat himself up, his curiosity aroused more than any other emotion. She was still not ready. Now, where did _he_ go wrong with it? "Alright." As she walked away, sense told him to leave a better impression in her head. "Ah'll call you later."

She smiled. To herself. But hey, it was a start!

_Parfaire_ (Perfect).

* * *

Rogue glared at her reflection. "What's wrong with you?" Screw-up! Retard! Useless! Dense! "You can't even get your powers to work right." All her friends had their mutation under control. Kitty, Kurt, oh-so-perfect Jean, even deformed Evan managed to flame up his spikes at thought. Scott had his visor and Kurt has his holo-inducer.

But that was not the problem here. Well, maybe it was. Alright, it is the problem. No touching, no feeling, no life and no love. Sitting around with a romance novel, year in, year out, while everyone else was crushing, dating, hugging, kissing. She could not hold his hand though she yearned with all her heart to. It sucked. She sucked.

She wanted to tell him today. Not her feelings, but her problem. There was no damn way anything would work. No shit about it. She knew what would happen: they could get together (he makes it too obvious), go on dates, and she bet in a month or two, her mutation would be a serious hindrance to any potential moment. She would be happy to just be _around him_. But a guy is a guy! And they have their needs – worse is that Remy is a major need-er. She knew his head inside out from that brief touch on Blood Moon Bayou, in any case, how he worked. He just might be in love with her, but if he could not _love her_ without dying out, Rogue could expect to find him at jazz bars with other girls piling themselves on top of him. And he would not tell her a shit about it.

What made her want to tell him was that he would keep all of that to himself. His head was a cesspit of lies, secrets, deceit, guiltless betrayal, lust. His actions may be complicated outside, but his mind was clear enough. Clear enough to think, to scheme to get what he wants. Why else is he called Gambit, for God's sake?

No knock, no tapping, no pre-emptive warning. "Ah didn't know Rogue talks to herself." came another Southern voice from outside.

What the hell does he think he is doing? "Go away before someone catches you again." she yelled back.

"Ah told you Ah'll call."

So he did. She untangled herself from her curled position to sit up on her bed. "My phone ain't ringin'."

"'Cos Ah lost mine. Can I borrow yours?"

Huh? What kind of answer is that? It's a flirt's trick; a cheesy line to get her to open the door and talk to her. She realised it must have worked because she had gotten off her bed and reaching for the knob. The faint smell of cigarettes was on his shirt as she looked at him. "What're you doin' here?"

Minty breath. "Can't say Ah'm passin' by." He was referring to that time when he appeared at her school for reasons unknown and then she followed him to the Brotherhood house then – yeah well, another episode of X-Men history. He looked beyond her into her room, which was not difficult with his height. If she were to look straight she would be looking at his bare throat. "It's damn dark in there."

Blast you then. "If you don't like it, stay out of it!" She shut her door –

– Not before he stuck his foot at the doorpost. "Ah just wanted to talk." Oh yeah? About what. What else are you gonna ask for that Ah can't give you? "Fah'ne. Don't talk to me then. Ah got somethin' to say." He paused, his red orbs bearing into her. "What're you beatin' yerself up for?"

"That isn't sayin' somethin'. You asked it." she replied wryly. Ah hoped you would. She could not look at him.

"Yeah." He glanced about and sped through his words. "Now Ah'm gonna ask if you're comin' out or can Ah come in for awhile 'cos Jean Grey's comin' this way."

Did he really hear it or is he just playing her out? Better take no chances with Jean. "Okay."

He slipped in and she closed the door. The first thing he did was switch on the lights then walk over to the small music player on her dressing table. He turned it on. "Ah would open the curtains, but if anyone looked in and saw me, or heard me –" He raised the music volume. "– Is it alright?"

Guessing he wants the lights on so Ah'll be on mah comfort level. HE being in HER room already put all her senses on high alert. She crossed her arms. His eyes widened that she had tucked her arms under her chest so she re-crossed them. He looked about her room then back at her. "Anyway, Ah'm gonna get to the point with you. D'you wanna go out with me sometime?"

His manner was so matter-of-fact she wanted to slap him. All her theories jammed up her brain until her only reply was a flat, lame, untrue "Ah can't."

"Why not?" He found a chair and sat with his elbows on his knees, looking up at her standing by the door.

She leaned into it. If she were to tell him everything, it would take all night. The theories were shoving at each other to get into her tongue and she bit it back.

"It was brief but Ah enjoyed that kiss." What kiss? When did they kiss?! Oh God, _where? _"Don't think you remember. Bein' under Mesmero's control and all. In that crap of a warehouse back in the day when we were still fightin'? You dropped in and went on with all those powers, knocked us all out. Piotr, Creed and John – that's Pyro – went like lights. You were merciless, Rogue." He seemed to grin a lot. "You took a little longer with me."

She could not help but ask something off his topic. "So how did Ah kick your butt?"

He was always able to bring the topic right back. "You snuck up on meh and gave me that kiss."

Whew. Whoa. She did? "Ah know you're lyin'."

"Ah'm not playin' you." His look was so earnest it seemed honest.

"You really wanna go out with meh." she whispered. It was meant to re-confirm with herself, but he seemed to comprehend her over the music.

"_Oui? Non? _(Yes? No?)" he asked.

French. His most seductive weapon. Damn him. "Ah don't understand a word you just said."

"Then you'd better go for my classes, eh?" He stood up from the chair and began pacing toward her. "_Chéri. _D'you know what it means?"

"Ah don't even wanna guess." She pressed her back against the door, her insides tightening. A warm flush heated her core as he drew closer.

"Then Ah'll tell you." He made it to stand inches away from her. "Beloved, mah darling."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Ah'll have to double check that." she whispered.

"Got your reference right here..." He took her hand and laid a kiss on it, the second one in twenty-four hours. Then he raised his head and slowly brought his bare hand toward her face. She jerked in fear of hurting him but he had her cornered. Carefully, so it seemed to her, he took the white strand that hung over her face and pushed it back, without touching her skin. He still held her gloved hand, the heat pouring from him into her. He continued to push her hair back to gaze over her face.

She had better ask. It was now or never. "You don't mind mah powers?"

"That's what you're here in the Institute to handle." He cradled the back of her head where her hair shielded him, pulling her from the door. Her core burned as the space closed between them.

That's not what Ah wanna hear from you. "You're avoidin' the question."

He chuckled. "It's part of your charm."

As much as she would have _loved_ to be _loved_ at this point, she had to stop it. Her theories were damn right. She put a hand over his mouth. "Remy –" Her fear told her to push him away, hurt him so bad he would run and never come back. Another fear rose at the 'never come back' part of the plan. A moment like this might never come again. She broke against herself and kissed him.

Not really. Her hand was in the way. But he did not seem to register the awkwardness to the same degree she did. It took an instant before he released her hand and slid his hand to the small of her back. He pulled her body to press against his and held her there. She never felt so warm before. The heat within burned so hotly it drove her body to tighten into him. Yet she never felt so weakened. Her legs went boneless. His body seemed to lead her to walk back, though her feet could not feel the ground. She barely noticed she was against the wall, held up by his body against hers. The pressure of his lips in her hand lessened, lessened until she felt cool air replace it.

She lowered her hand, staring down into the black pools around his red eyes. He seemed hypnotised for awhile too, both of them breathing heavier than before this.

"D'you know..." His voice had deepened and become more husky. "...what you're legs are doin' t'meh?"

Self-consciously, she glanced down. Her legs must have had a mind of its own, opening up to allow his hips in. If he held her a little lower – a guilty sort of pleasure tickled her. "Ah – Ah kinda liked that."

He appeared pleased to hear her say that. "Would you like another one?" Then his face changed. "A _real one_."

The seriousness in the way he said it frightened her. "No!" She straightened her legs and he had to put her down. "D'you wanna –"

"Die?" he finished it for her. Then he shook his head and smiled at her, stroking her hair back again. "Oh, Rogue." He paused. "Would you like to –"

"Go out with you sometime?" she finished him. She could get used to this game. The game they were both so keen to play.

"_Oui?_" He was going all French on her again. She had no idea what he said, but she decided it was a safe take that it meant 'yes'.

"_Oui._" she repeated the vowel.

"_Demain?"_ he asked, hands on her waist. "Means 'tomorrow'."

"_Oui, demain._"

He hissed and her core sizzled up again in sweet sympathy. "You have to talk French more often." he whispered. "You say it perfectly."

She had let him talk her into it after all. "So what time is your slot?"

* * *

_The next morning..._

"...and that gives you – X equals 23.4519... Round off to 3 s.f. – we get 23.5." Instructor Jean finished the trigonometry sum as the kids groaned or scribbled down the answer. "Does anyone need a repeat?"

The room door slid back with a stylish _whoosh!_ All eyes turned to the tall hazel head that came through it. His expression held such an innocent gaze that the students began to snicker.

"You're late." Scott muttered.

Remy LeBeau shrugged his shoulders insensitively. One should make a good first impression to those whom one is to teach. Pause. Oh well! "What did Ah miss?" He walked over to the middle of the blackboard and cocked his head at the doodles he saw. An odd-looking shape made of four differently shaped triangles. What was the point here? Find X. It's right there. Next to that line in that triangle over there. Ah don't see the problem. "This?"

"It's called Trigonometry, Gambit." Jean walked up to him. "Take a seat." She gestured to the chairs and desks with the chalk in her hand.

"Don't mind if Ah do." He walked straight to the back corner of the classroom, avoiding the desk Tabitha sat at on his route there. Invisibility is his best defence.

Scott cleared his throat to get attention back to himself and Jean. "Anyway, for you guys who don't understand what's going on, here's a repeat..." Whatever else that followed, Remy could not understand. _Sine cosine tangent co-tangent secant co-secant._ _Quoi_ (what)_?_ _Pourquoi_ (what for)_?_

Remy went from sitting to slouching to sinking into his chair. Oi! He shook lethargy from his brain. What just happened? He just had a good workout at the Mansion's gym that morning, making him late for both breakfast and class. Had coffee too. _Séjour éveillé_ (stay awake)! He leaned on the table instead. It just made the situation worse. Before he could register his movements, his fist had to support his head and his brain began telling him "Just a quick fiver. No harm."

Far away, there was a tapping. Consciousness stirred within him. The tapping came closer. He tried his voice to make a deep sound in his throat and opened an eye. A pair of sunglasses on a face in his face told him the entire story of falling asleep in class. He sat his heavy head on his forearms crossed before him. "Yeah?"

"Just stay awake." Scott quietly reprimanded him like a child before making his way back to the blackboard. The kids sniggered.

"Dude!" whispered a shaggy blonde boy.

"You're awesome!" whispered the mutant with the ice powers – what's his name?

Tabitha had to add a wink to her sentence. "Deserves an applause." _Tenez-vous là_ (stay right there).

Another one with spiked blonde hair and orange strands up front fidgeted in his seat to face Remy. "Did you seriously never went to school?"

Oh, shut up. "D'you see why?" Remy mumbled.

"Gambit! Stop distracting the students!" Jean shouted across the classroom. "Ray, Sam, Bobby, Tabitha, turn around."

Whoa. Woman, you wanna take this outside? He raised his palms lazily and leaned into his chair, crossing his arms.

"Alright Amara." Jean continued. "Since you answered the last question, you can call anyone to answer the next one."

"_Anyone?_" Remy had a bad feeling about that tone. "Can I call him?" There you go. The accusing finger in his direction.

"No." He answered stiffly. He may be subject to the humiliation of attending school but he was not going to find X.

A very evil, very happy look was on Jean's face. "We're all sure you know at least how to solve this..." She meant X. "Just humour them, Gambit."

Nobody saw the light bulb flash atop his head. He strode up to the blackboard. Passing Tabitha, she jabbed his ass with her pen. He jumped, brushed his ass, kept walking. Taking the chalk, he circled the X, drew a line from his circle away from the diagram and wrote "Here it is", handing the chalk to Jean.

The class was in an uproar as soon as he stepped back from his work. "That's sick!" "Awe-some!" and cheers from all quarters.

Jean and Scott. Upset. _Bon_ (Good).

"Do you at least know one plus one?" Jean asked sarcastically.

Remy knew it was rhetorical, but he could not help himself. This was too good to pass. A dirty-minded smile crept up his lips. "Three, _mademoiselle_."

Her new look was of the incredulous type. "Really. How does that happen?" She held the chalk to him. Another rhetorical moment, but –

– He took it and drew the stick figure of a man, a '+' sign then a woman (signified by a skirt; he figured drawing breasts would get him laser-blasted out of the room). He gestured to the picture then added an '=' sign. Then he drew the male stick figure, a smaller stick figure and the woman stick figure. Three stick figures. Two lovers and the fruit of their love. He lowered the chalk.

The girls squealed."Oh my gawd!!!" The boys laughed their nuts off. "Ho GOD!"

Remy kept his eye contact with Jean and Scott, who were silently fuming. "Alright. Alright." He erased the crap clean from the blackboard then turned to the kids who had begun some gossip. Without asking their permission, he decided to set things right."Hey, listen here!" No one took any bloody notice. "_Tais-toi!_" They probably had no idea what he said but they shutted up.

"Ah've no idea in hell what's this –" He gestured around the mathematical diagrams on the board. "– and Ah don't give a damn. But," He sighed for the effect of regret. "Ah think if somebody taught it to meh, Ah won't be runnin' aroun' the streets of New Orleans pickin' pockets, blowin' up property, kidnappin', workin' for Magneto and other things. Shit happened. Ah didn't go to school." He paused to let the effect sink into their listening heads. "You _petites_ got it good. Don't screw this up for yourselves." Then he waved a hand to the instructors, who were rather stunned. _Cest très bon_ (that's very good). At least he would not be reported as 'a selfish, irresponsible lout who spoilt everything' in class today. "_Où, écouter tes moniteur-monitrice_. Listen to your instructors."

Well, he had done enough here. He dusted his hands and placed a friendly hand on Summer's shoulder as he left the classroom. "_Bonjour_ and _au revoir_, _monsieur._" For Jean, he gave a slight bow. "_Mademoiselle_ Jean."

"Thank you." she replied.

Whew. He was out of there.

Passing the corridor was Logan, who shot him a what-the-hell-is-he-doing-out-here look. "Expelled on the first day?"

Ha. Ha. "Kicked myself out." He kept a straight, businesslike face.

Logan's face called him a hopeless case. "Don't screw the kids up. They've got a whole better life ahead of 'em than we do."

Yeah, they do. "For the better of mutant-future." He nodded grimly. "Got it."

Though he still had no idea how to go about this whole teaching thing.

But to other more interesting schedules, he had a lunch date with a Southern angel!

Welcome to the X-Men! YEOW!

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**Yes, Remy, YEOW! HOT DATE HOT DATE! haha those who want to have a hot date chapter, REVIEW THIS STORY NOW! =]**

**- peace out!**


	8. First Date I

**Living the X-Men Life 08**

Rogue sat on her bed in a strapless black lace bra and panties, her closet spilled all over the floor. Today was her first date EVER and she had no goddamned idea what the hell to wear. Should she stay safe and go all black? But what if he gets turned off when she shows up looking like she was going to a funeral? She was NOT going to wear that purple top again – he had seen that before. Even her makeup was shit; the same dark lavender and stuff. Damn, she was such a stiff!

"Need help?" Suddenly Kitty's head came through the wall, making Rogue yelp in fright.

"Mind mah privacy, will yah?" she scolded, grabbing for the nearest cloth and covering her chest.

"C'mon," Kitty pursed her lip, evidently hurt. "What do you have that I don't?"

It was Rogue's turn to purse her lip. She had better not say anything. "Ah donno what to wear. Seriously, this is all my old stuff!"

Kitty just laughed.

Damn you, it's not funny! Rogue growled, "Are you gonna help me out or not?"

"Only you know what's your old stuff!" She picked up her friend's usual purple top and tossed it away. "Except that, you _always_ wear that, and I mean ALWAYS. What you need is something special. Not new, special."

Rogue figured she could trust Kitty for first date tips. Lance, another guy at school, Lance, and other guys at school. Not that she is a major flirt, but she knew this sort of thing like the back of her little hand. "Okay, so what now?"

Kitty burrowed through the mess on the floor, throwing her choices up onto the bed for Rogue to check out. "Ew! No. Oh, no no! Yeah! Nice! Oh gawd, hot! Here! Ewww! Okay, great!" Then she got up and beamed at her.

What the hell is she supposed to do with all this? And did she have to criticise her fashion choices like that? Rogue glared back, more confused than hurt.

"This is the most acceptable first-date stuff I can find in here!" Kitty said frankly. "Well? Mix and match!"

Rogue hesitated. None of Kitty's choices were stuff she wore at all. She took up the pair of black flats. "Ah think we'll be ridin' his bike."

"Oh, they'll fly off, won't they?" Kitty dived into Rogue's closet and pulled **the pair **of boots. "How about these?"

* * *

Remy LeBeau was waxing his beautiful bike. The ride has gotta be perfect for that perfect girl.

"And where d'you think you're goin', bub?" Only Logan would say that.

"Jazz club on the east side." he answered coolly, glancing over his shoulder. Make no reference to Rogue, otherwise say bye-bye to your ass, Remy. "Quiet area, good food, live bands. The usual."

"Huh." the other man scoffed. Uh oh. "Rogue's goin' along, isn't she?"

Sigh. Damn, so much for going stealth out of this place. Remy straightened himself up, capping the car wax bottle. "Yeah." he nodded.

"You know what's gonna happen to your ass right about now?"

That look was the same look Logan gave him at Blood Moon Bayou, when he held Remy up against a tree, claws unsheathed and at his throat. Remy stayed his ground, figuring if he were to run, Logan would charge. He wiped his waxy hands in an old cloth. "Logan, someone _will find_ my dead body."

"Trust me, they won't." His frown turned into something else, still a facial contortion, but less aggressive. "Just you bring her home for dinner. Safe. And if Ah find out you broke her heart at anytime, Ah'll have yours in my hand."

Remy had no doubt he would. Easily. "Ah'm willin' to take that risk." he replied. No smile, eye contact, hand on his bike meant business.

With a grunt, Logan took his word and left the scene.

Alright, he had better get showered and changed in – what time is it? – half an hour. Zoom! Grab towel. Run! Slam the bathroom door. Strip. Shampoo, soap, face. _Mon Dieu_, he needed to shave these dumb little stubs of beard off. The aftershave here smells funny. He had just bought his own... In the room, dammit! Wrapped towel around the goods and flew back. Stupid kids: What you looking at? Alright, aftershave. Drawers. Jeans. Dark green shirt. Black socks. Off-red sneakers. Half-gloves on. Ah bought a jacket, where did it go? Ah. Am. Gonna. Be. Late. Dry, head, dry! Comb. Cigs...just one pack. Look in the mirror.

Done.

* * *

Rogue sprayed on some of that mild perfume that she pretty liked and stared at herself in the mirror above her dresser. Oh no. She _cannot_ go out looking like that! "Kitty," She swirled her head around. "Ah look FAT!"

Kitty raised her eyebrow. "You haven't seen Blob in a long time, have you? Alright, alright! Don't give me that _Ah'm-gonna-kill-you_ look." Her attempt at a Southern accent was lightly amusing. So Rogue dropped the look. "'Sides, you're not fat. Just... Er, busty!"

"Go die." Rogue muttered miserably under her breath.

"C'mon, Rogue!" Kitty grabbed her friend's gloved hand and pulled her to the door.

Rogue grabbed her leather clutch and walked with Kitty down the corridor. With her heart drumming at a high tempo, complete with symbols and maracas, her steady steps were forced with all the will she had. Her first date. HER FIRST DATE.

"They won't last an hour." said Tabitha as they passed.

That girl was lucky that Kitty was there to keep her on track, because she was about to rip off her gloves and give Tabby a good K.O.! Alright, alright. Chill. He chose you. That butch is not even close to getting anywhere with him.

Just her luck, they ran into Logan coming through the second floor. "Ah don't like it, Rogue." he grumbled. Oh, come on! "Change your costume."

That's it! Enough! "Why doesn't _anyone_ like _anythin'_ Ah do?" she cried to nobody in particular, zipping up, tossing the scarf over her shoulder and storming off.

Rogue did not hear Kitty huff, injured by her friend's disregard for all the hard work and advice she gave. And she did not see Logan's slight discomfort in making her cross before her first date. He may have ruined for her.

* * *

Remy shuffled his cards in his waiting, lounging around the lobby, leather jacket hanging off his arm. Why do women always take so long? Ah, but with Rogue, he told himself, it will be worth the wait.

True enough, there she was! Now, those were some legs in leather and zipper knee boots... storming down the stairs? "You alright?"

"Remy!" She stopped before him. In blind fury, she suddenly unzipped that gorgeous leather jacket she had on, exposing everything beneath it – a superb, cream-white midriff, lightly knotted with abs and a golden orange half-tube top that could barely contain her chest. Remy gazed her down in total awe. He could hear the goods in his pants go _boing-yiong-yiong_! YEOW! He barely inhaled softly.

"Do Ah look fat to you?!"

He ached hard to see her so revealed. "It's in all the right places –" he drooled out before he chewed on his tongue. Logan was coming down the stairs too, right behind her. "You look lovely, _Chéri._"

Her face – a sweet change from the usual purple to a metallic turquoise eye shadow that played off the silver in her eyes, a darker shade on her lips and a _wee_ bit of blusher that shaped up her cheeks – twisted in annoyance. "What d'you mean?"

"Yeah, Gambit." Logan added with a similar scowl as Rogue's. "What _do_ you mean?"

They could be father and daughter by the way they keep going on like that. To Logan he said, "She's beautiful." To her, he took her hand and whispered, "Let's ride."

She seemed suddenly to relax. He knew that he knew what she needed to know. To be told she was beautiful. To be told she was everything a guy wanted on a first date, and he believed he was her first man. That got her off the bad mood train. He took her out the door, handed her helmet over and gestured to his bike. "All yours."

She seemed to consider his offer, as if trying to figure out what he was up to. It was obvious enough he wanted to hold onto her as tight as nuts while she goes on a spin. Hold it. He glanced over her again. Her waist was bare skin. Damn damn damn. Knew he should have bought some full-hand gloves! He ached harder until it hurt. You torture me, _Chéri!_

"You still want me to drive?" She smirked, as if she read his mind.

But it was still too good to pass up. "By all means." He held the keys to her.

She put on her helmet and swung herself aboard, turning on his – _pardonnez moi _(excuse me) – his bike's engine. As he seated himself behind her, ready to keep his hands to himself, she performed a wonder that got him harder than ever that day. She arched her back and slowly, tantalizingly zipped her jacket up. He never imagined he would go hard when a lady puts her clothes on.

"You'd better hold on..." she teased, working up the motor with a strong _vroom vroom_.

His motor made the same noise – until she started off his bike at flying speeds. _PUTAIN_ (OH FUCK)! He threw his arms around her waist. _Merdé_ (shit), he was that close to being thrown off his own ride.

She laughed. Cruel, reckless, wonderful Rogue! "Nice to see you all stiff and scared, Remy!" She made a sharp turn that had them balancing on the edge of the tyres.

He loved a girl that was up to no good. "Ah' assure you, _cheri_, Ah am the definition a'calm!"

* * *

_At the jazz club on the east side..._

Rogue let the coy smile happen when she took off the jacket. His eyes BOGGLED and he quickly ushered her into a seat.

He purred into her ear, sending warm breath over her bare shoulders. She shuddered pleasurably. "You should've never worn the jacket at all." Kitty was right about the gloves. Those black ones that reached up to her upper arms. With all the black, it made the orange part of the outfit stand out.

"Then you'd be dead by the time we got here." she replied, rewrapping the matching scarf around her neck. It was meant to be a joke.

He sighed softly, laid a comforting hand on her arm then muttered, "Enough with the death talk, Rogue. It's a date for God's sake." He settled himself opposite her. Guess her tone was not funny at all. "Hey, not that face." he perked into her thoughts, running his foot behind her calf. She gasped in wordless delight. _Oui_, she liked that.

He moved his chair over next to her.

Her core tightened as he paused to open his eyes and admire her body. His gaze was hot and it radiated right through her.

This was probably not a good idea. "So, er," she tried again. Ah am so gonna fall on my face again with this convo. "What's nice here?"

"If Ah could get mah eyes to refocus..." he replied, turning aside and blinking slowly. "Pyro said the Cajun chicken was good, but Ah don't think so. It ain't Cajun if Ah'm not cookin' it." He called a waitress over.

Her hormones dropped themselves. What kind of ego is this. "You cook?"

"Ah'm limited to our kind of food." Then he broke off to talk to the waitress.

The mature side of her listened quietly and let him ask the questions. How else are they gonna get some eat? But the juvenile her felt a pang of jealousy as he looked away and paid attention to another woman. What was worse was that Remy seemed okay with making that other female giggle shyly. Man-whore, she silently scolded, crossing her legs and arms. He faced her again, looked a little stunned – must be the face she had on – touched her arm romantically and asked her what she felt like having.

Upon hearing whatever she had muttered, he said to the waitress, "And mah date will have the dory."

That idiot female took the hint, wrote on her little notepad and vanished.

"You keep everythin' t'yourself." He tried to get to her hand without molesting the wrong region – that would have annoyed her even more. "At least kick me next time."

"Ah'll remember that." She let her hand be taken, then stretched across him.

He gently began to kiss her from her fingertips up to the end of her glove, his pace in sync with the beat of the alluringly slow music. Her hormones returned to race through her veins.

"Remy..." she gasped softly as his head drew close to her chest.

He travelled back down, the final touch on her fingertips. "You're hurtin' meh already." he said, lifting his head.

Heat sent an idea to her. He was gonna love this. "Already?" She placed a hand on his knee then slithered it up, closer and closer to those precious toys. He shivered. "Am Ah killin' you yet?"

"Murder." he breathed, kissing her arm again, but with more vigour.

It was her turn to tremble at his touch. "Ah thought you told meh no more death threats."

He gazed up her arm, a dark lust in his eyes. "_Mais non_ (nonsense), keep talkin'." He moved his hand to the back of her tube top.

* * *

_At the movies..._

Rogue kept her eyes on the TV screen for showtimes, anxious that AVATAR© tickets were running out fast. Damn, Ah really wanted to see it in 3-D!

At last! Their turn came!

The girl behind the counter looked familiar. Rogue's memory was triggered by the brunette with her hair at shoulder-length, parted on her left. Those dark brown eyes that were dead fixed on her. Her name... Her name was Terra! Scott's ex-admirer! She started hating Scott after learning that he was a mutant. Oh no. This has gotta be her part-time job or something.

"Sorry," she said, disgust in her otherwise flirty voice. "No mutants allowed here."

Welcome to the X-Men, discrimination and all.

* * *

**basket case. all is ruined because they are mutant kind! but the date aint over yet.**

**sorry i took so long, new year celebrations and things, wishing every living creature a happy 2010...**

**which brings me to say WISHING A GLORIOUS 2010 AHEAD to all my readers&reviewers! =]**

**- peace.**


	9. First Date II

**Living the X-Men Life 09**

Terra had recognised her. Rogue stood stunned. She felt his hand grip her wrist.

Immediately, people stopped and stared. Parents pulled their children closer to them. Couples held themselves together. A deathly silence fell, followed by gossiping whispers then an explosion of sound.

"Go home!"

"Freaks!"

"Get out of here!"

"Nobody wants you around!"

"Your kind should be wiped out! Like NOW!"

Etcetera.

Etcetera.

And so forth.

Disaster. This date is a disaster! Rogue the girl wanted to cry. Rogue the X-Man wanted to knock some heads off. Rogue the mutation had other ideas, involving a headache triggered by the sudden riot. Holy shit, her head wanted to tear in half! She clutched her head, twisting up in pain.

It hardly occurred to her that someone had folded up her collar, held her shoulders and was moving through the crowd. By the time they got out from the hive of noise, she was bending over double. Why can't those bloody humans leave us alone? Hate the world. HATE IT! Stupid headache! Dumb powers! Shut up! Shut up! Shut the bloody hell up!

***

Remy watched the brunette glare at Rogue, more specifically, at her hair. Either the other female was jealous of the colour or... No, that was a spark of recognition in her eye. Then the female turned to him. She was looking at only one thing.

"Sorry, no mutants allowed." Hell.

He groaned inwardly. The red eyes. It could only be these god cursed eyes! He had let his guard down. He did not bring his sunglasses. He gripped Rogue's wrist as soon as he recognised the situation that was to come. True enough, in came the shouts and the yells and the names. Those verbal bullets failed to hurt him anymore but his hand that held hers was raised up. He glanced down.

_Ces satané humains_ (Damned humans)! He caught her before she fell. Why was she...? A headache; her powers must be acting up. What timing! The first thing is to get out of the crowd that threatened to beat the living shits out of them. He folded up her collar then his own to on a sight barrier. He half-carried, half led her out. The crowd parted where they walked, like Moses and the Red Sea. But mutants were no God-given prophets. They were being avoided like they carried a fatal disease more than the burden of natural powers. If these assholes would just shove off! He should be carrying her off her unstable feet right now. But they kept pushing him forward.

Maybe just one card. Blasting them from his path was a sweet thought, but Gambit knew better than to pick a fight with the weak. First, the police reports. Then government creeps will question. Humans will protest at the Institute gates. Eventually, it will lead to him being tossed to the mutant-eating lions.

She stumbled again. This girl was not gonna make it. As soon as he got some space, he zipped up her jacket, swept her off her feet and took her weakened body in his arms. His bike was at the end of the open air parking and was very glad she was not a bit overweight.

"We're goin' back, Rogue." he consoled her, sitting her up on the bike before seating himself behind her, keeping his hands on her shoulders to stable her. He would ride and hold her at the same time. Not sure how that would turn out but he was going to give it the risk. She needed someone qualified to help or at least someone who knew what to do. Whoever it was, he or she is in the Institute.

"Wait..." her voice trailed away as she rubbed her temples. She shook her head and moaned again.

He did what she wished for an agonising moment, his hands moving over her body to find the best way to hold her safest. As fate would have it, she was curled against his chest, her head cradled in the nook of his shoulder with his arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist. Taking his eyes off the suspicious passersby, he noticed for the first time the extreme paleness. The whimpering. The shut eyes. The tightened fists. The vulnerability of her closed body. In his arms. He had never pictured it this way. His fantasies of embracing her was always had a filthy climatic ending, yet, there was a greater sense of completion this way. The better way. The right way? He questioned himself.

Finally, she stirred. A post-headache moan later, she was handling her own head and sitting up on her own. He reluctantly let her pick herself up as they parted. Maybe it was not _that terrible_...

"Good thing you had that jacket." he pointed out to her.

She fingered the leather, more intent to eye him than her clothing. She appeared to scrutinise him rather more harshly than he felt he deserved after all that drama at the theatre.

Hold, was it a curve on her lips? Yeah, and it was not a controlled mask no more. Lopsided perhaps, but it was a beautiful, grateful smile. His heart jumped a little, among other things. That smile beat the crap load of desirous looks women had ever been giving him. Ever.

"Good thing you didn't start a'fightin'." she rebutted him, giving into the smile.

It was my pleasure. "Still up for the movie?" He knew he did not need to confirm that, but it was to reassure her.

"Let's just throw anyone else off the TV back home." she replied.

Ooh, alone time in a room. He liked that. "Ah'm drivin'." He handed back her scarf, which he had undone from her neck lest it strangled her or some other funky reason.

* * *

_At the Institute..._

"There's gonna be a nice sunset." he said as they rode through the newly installed gates.

"How d'you know?" she asked from behind him.

Forever the pessimist. A while ago, he had learned the trick of scenic prediction to find good snogging spots for romantic _femmes_ (girls). He could have answered that it was in the cloud arrangement of their various shapes, the angle which the sun rays would hit them, blablabla. Nah. "Trust me." He wanted to turn. Oh he wanted it. He slowed his bike in the middle of the road. "How d'you feel?"

"Like nothin' happened." She loosened her hold on him. "Why?"

Sweet innocence. It turned him on. "Shall we...make a _détour_ (detour)?"

Rogue thought about it, her facial expression hidden under her visor. "You know what, why not?"

They rode through to the edge of the forest toward the cliffs. Isolated, shaded and a good view of the sea: the perfect scenic spot.

"So instead of a movie," Rogue said, getting off the bike and removing her helmet. "We're gonna watch the sun set? Seriously, you just want t'get meh alone, don't you?"

She was the only woman who could possibly read his mind to near accuracy. "We don't have t'worry 'bout bein' thrown out for makin' too much noise." he hinted, ruffling up his hair from becoming helmet shaped and unattractive.

She turned away and walked a small distance to the end of the cliff they were on. Uh. He followed after her.

Hmmm. Maybe he should have kept that line to himself. This calls for a change in topic. "The Professor knows where to build a house."

"Yeah," She did not face him but pointed to the much larger, neighbouring cliff. "Logan gets the kids to play 'rescue mission' on that."

Remy looked the cliff over. It was sheer lunacy to scale that jagged wall, let alone train teenagers on it. At worst, his _server de père _(foster father) made him swim with the gators. The army must have done more to Wolverine's head than he thought. "Amazin' Jean and Scott can handle 'em in a boring old classroom."

Now she faced him. Yes! She sat down on the grass. He sat down too. "You should've been here to see their first day. Nobody would do a thing they planned. Burning up their handouts, blasting each other... Bobby made an ice statue of himself and skipped the class, then everyone volunteered to find him and left Scott and Jean's school."

Was that a clue she was giving about how his lesson was going to turn out? Good, now he knew that he would be running a class of _creative_ mutant monkeys. "How did they tame 'em?"

"Jean said they had to impress them with their powers. Show off their skills so the kids got interested." There was a drip of sarcasm in that.

"It's always the rich kid that gets the fame." he answered her jealousy. "Or just them who have good parents."

"It's not fair." She turned to him. "On Christmas they all go home to their families. Checkin' out Christmas lights in family cars, goin' sledding, a super dinner, holiday in the Alps, singin' and carollin'. Even Kurt and Kitty. It's always the same thing here."

Being left alone while everyone else was laughing the holidays away. Plus they probably came back to the Institute and told her how much fun they had. That bites. "Can't beat t'Theives." He threw in a smile. "Christmas means lots of people shoppin'. Means lots of cash in their wallets. So Ah spend mah Christmases workin'."

"What if they only brought their cards?"

Rogue, bad Rogue. You did not point out that stealing is wrong. "If it's credit or they're kind enough to write their PIN on the card, Ah'll keep it."

"If not?"

"It makes a good explosive. Use it to open locked doors." Her look of disapproval was incredibly short-lived. "It's mine if it's in mah wallet."

"Anythin', as long as it's in your hands, is yours?" she said, her tone and face unreadable.

"You and Ah," This is the point. "We both like to think so." Admit it, Rogue. You are just as possessive as Ah am, what with that attitude at the club and the waitress?

***

Rogue could not take it anymore. If she had to wait another minute, she would have raped him herself. But she could not let him until she was sure he meant it. That line about making noises was supposed to be suggestive, but it had turned her off. She felt, at that moment, that all he wanted was her female body. As if nothing else mattered. It made him appear so shallow and almost bitched up. Not at all the Gambit she knew when they talked about their foster parents. Sure, later he betrayed her with his whole I-only-wanted-to-save-my-father parade, but that conversation had depth, meaning, a soul that they had in common. Possibly, even shared.

Not being able to find anything to say, she reached to her leather jacket collar and pulled the zip down. Slowly, savouring his reaction. His eyes trailed after her hand and she could see the hunger in them as he surveyed her. She wanted this, he wanted this. Untying the scarf around her neck, she wrapped it around her bare midriff, covering the deadly skin. It made her feel like an Egyptian mummy.

He did not seem to be at all disturbed. He shrugged out of his jacket and spread it out on the grass, making her body tighten in anticipation. The memory of yesterday's stolen kiss returned with a rush of hormones. The shirt beneath was not tight fitting but it still failed to hide the body that wore it. Her hand reached to his chest, travelling down his torso and feeling the knotted muscles beneath. A small thrill went through her when she stopped at his belt buckle.

All that time, he had watched her enjoy him. "May I?" he asked softly, moving his butt so they were only a couple of inches apart.

Her core heated at his concern. He was asking her if she was ready. It just made her want him more. "Please do."

He pulled her jacket down and off her, laying that on the grass too. His eyes never left her face as she drew closer in desire. Her hands on his broad shoulders as his measured her waist.

And they embraced hard.

He pulled her close, running his hands up and down her curves. She pushed and knocked him over. He landed on his jacket with a groan of pleasure as her breasts pressed onto his chest. Her core seized up and had to separate her legs over his torso. She propped up her body over his, hair falling aside her face. His hands wandered over her body, her arms, her back, her midriff, her breasts, her rump. He grabbed a lower cheek and squeezed her.

"Remy..." she moaned. She yearned to feel his lips. "Kiss meh."

He hugged her and rolled them over so he was on top, she lying on her jacket. The unfamiliar pressure of a man's body on her puzzled her own for a moment before she tightened against him. His hands crawled from under the small of her back. Lord, she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched up. He went under her rump and her thigh, pulling her legs around his sides. She could feel a hardness brushing between her legs and blushed hotly. Her core was so warm. Now, Remy, kiss me now!

He heard her prayers and breathed over her bare skin, sending ecstatic prickles to dance across her body. She closed her eyes with a moan, expecting his lips to find hers, with her hand between them of course. Instead his lips found her tube top and began kissing around her breasts. Gentle, kind, eager movements down to her midriff. His torso slipped through her legs to go lower and lower and lower until she believed he was at her core. An urgent sensation throbbed deep inside her.

He sighed into her. More, more! Her body cried, gripping the jacket.

He just laughed. "Naughty little Rogue. Wanna drip honey on her first date."

"Please, please." she moaned, not really knowing what she was asking for. The thrill of his closeness was so cruel. Was this what she had been missing out her whole teenage life? These desires kept in years of storage. She needed this. This _release_. Please, give it to me!

He caressed her thigh, drawing little circles with an expert finger. She was so tight she gripped the jacket with a long gasp. He made it worse by laying his lips on her leg and travelling from one to the other. Slow. Paceful. Torture. She moaned louder.

"You likin' this." he rumbled, kissing her again.

"Ah've been missin' this." she whimpered.

He slowly kissed his way up to her chest again, coaxing her legs to wrap around him. She was very willing to feel that hardened bump pressed against her core, even as her hands gripped his shirt. He attempted to put his hand over her mouth then pushed off her.

Don't you go nowhere, come back here! "Remy!" she cried.

"Wait." He fumbled his pockets for something then pounced on his jacket and searched those pockets. Finding only a cigarette case and his pack of cards, he spluttered what sounded like a curse. Then he drew out a random card from the pack and knelt between her legs. "Better safe than sorry." He flipped it over and she read the Two of Hearts. Wow. They needed protection like they were having sex. "Until – never mind. Right now, it's about this."

What was he gonna say? Oh, don't care! Remy had put his body where it belonged and held the card on his lips. She closed her eyes. A smooth, warmed surface touched her mouth. Her blood raced. Her hands slid under his arms and travelled his back excitedly, relishing the feel of his solid flanks. Her legs reacted instinctively to wrap around his hips. His hand stroked her thighs and coaxed her fire into experimenting. She wriggled her groin a little to rub against him. A shot of pleasure hit her core. He stopped and went rigid for a moment then continued exploring her body. She wriggled again. This time he gave a sharp hiss that encouraged her to keep moving. He made a deep sound in his throat, pressing into her. The pressure on her lips grew harder and harder making her soar higher and higher into pleasure.

Both their faces went a shade of blue before he roughly wrenched himself from her. They gasped, their breath ragged from the kiss. Thank God he got off her. Now she could fill her lungs.

Her eyes gazed about her surroundings, suddenly aware that the sky was orange and darkening. She sat up dizzily to a glorious setting of flames and shadows over an open sea, fingering the wetted card. One side had her lipstick mark smudged all over it. Looks like they had ruined one of his fifty-two explosives.

"Told you." he said in a hoarse voice. "Ah said it would be nice."

Ah just wanna kiss you again. "Yeah, you did."

She turned in time to see him crawl up beside her and settle down. He turned away from her gaze and proceeded to put up the front that he wanted to watch the sunset. That curl on the left side of his lip made it too clear. True enough, he conspicuously slipped a hand around her waist and still did not look her in the eye.

Fine, if you wanna play it that way. Rogue lightly swatted his knee and roamed along his inner thigh. They played 'touch mah body' until it began to grow dark.

Then he turned to her. "Prefer it rough, _cheri_?"

She slipped the card between his fingers playing on her scarf. Exactly. Now, shut up and give it to meh. She ran her fingernails on his jeans. "Hurt meh."

He tackled her down and crashed into her lips at the same time, forcing out her breath as impact hit her from behind. She gasped against the card and wrapped her legs around him. Their hands went all over each other trying to find the spot that made the other moan and shudder in blissful pleasure.

Something vibrated beside her head and Remy hissed against the sudden flashing glare from the inner cloth pocket of her jacket. He dug it out for her and read the caller ID on her handphone with a frown. That's mah phone, buster.

"Your makeshift father callin'." he muttered, passing it to her and rolling off her with an unhappy sigh.

Father? Oh, Logan. Why would he think Logan's mah father? To answer, or not to answer? He was probably gonna ask where the hell they were then ask her to get inside for dinner. Too bad, she was not hungry for _food_ at the moment. Her thumb hovered over the hang-up button, the red light telling her "Don't touch me!" her thumb telling her "You know you wanna hex it."

She did it. Not only that, she switched her phone off altogether. "So where were we?"

"Allow me t'remind you." He climbed onto her again.

"RA-RA-RA-AA-AA ROMA-ROMA-MA-AA WA GA-GA-OOH-LA-LA WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE...!" Interruption number two: Remy's phone this time. She had no idea he liked Lady Gaga's music. He got off her.

He appeared rather fierce about it as he glared at the screen. "Piotr." he growled. "Bet he's callin' me on Logan's behalf."

But he answered it. What the... she mouthed the words out.

"Yeah? Yeah, Rogue's here... Ow." He pulled the phone away from his ear and Rogue overheard the yelling. "Yeah, yeah... We both don't have watches, Logan... Her battery's dead... Yeah, we'll get back now... How long we're gonna take? About half an hour at least." He winked at her. Liar. "... Speeding could get someone killed... Okay, Ah figured you won't buy it. Alright, alright, thirty minutes or you'll skin my ass... Got it... You _don't_ wanna speak to Rogue? Alrightseeyahlater!" and then he hung up.

He turned to her. "He actually wanted to speak to you, but Ah guess Ah heard him wrong. You're not hungry, are you?"

He is being concerned again. Whew, it is getting warm out here! "Not for food, no." She lay back down slowly.

"Damn." he cursed at the way she must have moved. Gotcha. "Now you've got meh starvin'! Come here!"

And they rolled off and on each other until Remy's phone screamed again. He took his time to release her, to laugh with her then take her and his phone to his bike in the dark. He started the engine then handed her the phone. "Tell him we're on the grounds, _cheri_."

"Bloody liar." she laughed. But he was a damn good liar. "Yeah Logan?"

"Rogue! Where are you? And where's that rat?" Logan sounded mad but he did not yell that loud at her.

"He's drivin'. Took him some time to get the phone out of his ass." Remy grinned, his white teeth outstanding in the dark. Guess she was a pretty good liar too.

"At least he didn't ask you to get it out for him. Tell him he's a lousy rider and he's not gonna get a second date with you if you're not back in five!"

"Alright, Logan." she replied, suddenly happy. "You mean you'll let me go on a second?"

Silence on the other end of the line. "Well, maybe." Logan growled. "Don't count on it! Get home safely, okay? Ah'll save something for the both of you."

"Thanks Logan." She hung up.

Remy handed her her helmet and jacket. "C'mon, Rogue." he seated himself. "Ah want that second date, how 'bout you?"

She zipped up and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Ride fast, Remy."

"Hold on."

Whoa! Oh God. Yeah! On the dirt road through the forest! Oh Remy.

* * *

**Voila! Hahaha following Pyro's beautiful auusie accent, "You gotta love it! Hee hee hee hee!" Well, let me know how you liked/didn't like how their first date turned out by REVIEWING. then i can write their future moments together how you guys like it! hahahaha**

**OMG OLEVEL RESULT RELEASE IS ON THE 11TH! WISH ME LUCK!!!**

**and if i dont write anytime soon, its cos i've joined a XMEN EVO amv video competition on youtube that ends on the 29th. haha but i'll squeeze time to update as much as i can! promise! dont look at me like that, REALLY I WILL!**

**- peace!!! =]**


	10. Hospitalised

**THANK YOU FOR WAITING! hahaha**

**i was in a disappointed-upset kind of mood when the idea popped up. Maybe I just wanted someone to be severely punished... ah well, someone dies in this chap!  
Guess who!**

**i think i'm sane now. Enjoy! =D

* * *

**

**Living the X-Men Life 10**

Welcome to the X-Men.

Remy clasped his hands behind his head as he lay down to sleep. Ah, the life he lived. He was beginning to like this place; in fact, he might just fit in after a few more weeks or so.

Yawn.

Dinner was fun. What with Logan, Ororo and even the Professor eyeing how he and Rogue would interact over the dinner table. So were the rest of the kids ever eager to see what funny thing might happen. Sadly, he had to disappoint them.

First, he and Rogue made a grand entrance by jumping into the dining room on the dot. Everybody turned. But the Professor was kind enough to let them at the table and eat up whatever Logan had reserved for them, grudgingly or so it seemed. Apparently a Friday dinner was unofficial family time, when the older students would cook up something each for the table. Remy figured he had better keep his opinion, including facial expressions, to himself when he was served the infamous 'Spicy Enchiladas in Black Beans covered in Kitty's special sauce' if he wanted to remain in the room. He has got to cook something for these poor people someday.

Second, he and Rogue had to give morally decent answers when anyone asked "SO how did it go?" although she had probably made things more conspicuous by casting swift, assurance-demanding glances his way. He chose to keep his eyes to his plate or to another face; instead he sent replies with his foot under the table. Nothing sexual about it though. No one should know that this virgin girl liked it rough. Yeow. The very thought of their make-out...

Third, he and Rogue decided to keep their business to themselves tonight. He would go to his room and she would go to hers. No escapades, no funny scenes. Damn.

Yeah, _tout va bien_ (everything is fine).

Yawn.

* * *

_Sometime in the middle of the night..._

OW! _MÉRDE_ THAT HURT!

What bit me? Remy reached for the light. But his arm was not responding to his brain. Weird. May be it was asleep. He turned his head. But his neck was not responding either. What is this? He began to panic a little and tried to find his voice.

"Something wrong?" The female voice came from a shadow that suddenly started growing across his bed up to the cupboard. It was a cross between seductive and sly. If snakes could talk, they would sound exactly as that. And this woman was more snake-like in her two-legged form than when she is slithering on her belly.

_Mystique_.

Her hand found his chin and tilted his face toward her. His head rolled over and there was the creepy lady in scaly blue skin. "Do you know who I am?"

_Rogue and poor Nightcrawler's lousy mother. What did you do to me, woman? Why can't Ah speak?!_

She must have read his mind and held up a syringe in the dark. It was empty. _Ho shit._ "I'm not a doctor, but I presume that the artery on your neck would serve as access to your bloodstream. The poison itself will not kill you in a minute so don't give me those puppy dog eyes. In fact, you'll probably still be panicking tomorrow morning until somebody takes it into their head to wake you up. It will first disable your muscles then in six hours your nerves will fail, in other words, permanent paralysis. When the paralysis effect reaches your brain, _bon voyage_, Mister LeBeau." She sat on the bed.

_PUTAIN! WHY?! WHAT THE HELL DOES ANY OF YOUR PROBLEMS HAVE TO DO WITH ME?!_

"I have been waiting to get my daughter back, if not my son." _Oh great, and where do Ah come in?_ "I have been waiting for the opportune moment for months, but nothing and no one was able to draw out her heart the way you have." _It was just a couple of make-outs! And one little cuddle!_ "Once you are gone, she will be vulnerable and helpless as before and I can take her in." _You are a wonderful mother. No wonder your children love you so. _"She will run again, unable to remain where you died, straight into my arms."

_What kind of drugs have you been taking? You're bloody delirious, woman! Tu est fou à lier (You're totally mad)!_

"Oh, I'm not crazy." _Are you so sure? Must be heroin or marijuana._ "I just want to continue what I have started." _You have no life, seriously._

With that, she morphed into something very small and squeaky and climbed over his body. There was nothing humorous about being tickled by a rat that was out to end your life. She disappeared.

In six hours, in six God-damned hours he was gonna die. Shit, what time is it?

* * *

_When sunlight begins to flood the room..._

That's it. His fingers and toes have gone completely numb. Oh God, send somebody! Get Rogue worried that he ain't awake yet! Lord, do something!

"Not a sound." Colossus! That could only be Piotr outside his door! Who was he talking to?

"Nothin'?" ROGUE! SWEET, WONDERFUL ROGUE! Oh, Jesus, are you for real?

"I agree he is not usually so late in the mornings." YES YES!

"Should we check on him?" YES YES YES!

"I would not like to disturb him. He is not quite a morning person." NO NO!

"Well, Ah'm just gonna try anyway." Knock knock. "Remy! You alright?" DAMN IT, JUST KNOCK DOWN THE DOOR!

"He must still be asleep." OH YEAH, AH WILL BE SLEEPING VERY SOON. FOREVER.

Knock knock knock. NO NO NO! "Remy! ... What now?"

"I could check for you. Excuse me." The door opened a crack. "Remy?" The door closed. "He does not stir."

"Can you poke him?"

Pause. AN AGONISING GOD-DAMNNED PAUSE. "If you think it would help." Okay, he's coming over. "Remy? You're awake!"

Ah gotta try and make a sound. "Psssss...!"

Piotr stared at him.

"PSSSSS...!"

"Are you alright?"

"Ehheet! Uhh eyeing erh! (Dammit, I'm dying here)"

Piotr now looked puzzled. "Remy, please don't make funny sounds when I'm in your room, I'm strai-"

"GNATS KNOR EE OIN!! (THAT'S NOT THE POINT!!)"

This time it was Rogue who looked puzzled. "What's wrong with him?" TOUCH ME CHÉRI! ABSORB MY THOUGHTS!! "Should I absorb his thoughts?" OUI! MON AMOUR (MY LOVE)! DO IT! DO ME NOW!

"He does look constipated, maybe." AH HATE THIS WORD AND EVERYONE IN IT, except you, _Chéri_.

"Well," DON'T HESITATE! DON'T HESITATE! "Remy, it's just gonna be a tiny tap..." She undid her glove.

OH YES, TAKE IT OFF CHÉRI! TAKE IT OFF! "Ehhhhhgh..." he groaned. Whoa, Ah forgot how much _that_ hurts.

Rogue stumbled back a bit and Piotr held her shoulder to stable her. Grrr... Sure Piotr ain't the type but Remy's brain was not exactly functioning properly.

"Oh God!" Rogue whispered. A very dark, very haunting expression passed over her face before she turned away from him. Kinda scary that. "Colossus, he's been poisoned!"

"ах нет (Oh no). I'll carry him to the hospital room." Remy-in-boxers was tossed onto the Russian giant's shoulder. Oof, hey! Easy on the goods, Muscles! Ah'm not a piece of meat!

Hey, but at least that means Ah can still feel. Now my ass is nicely displayed in the air. Great, Ah feel so dignified! Ooh, Rogue are you lookin' this way, Chéri?

Under five minutes, he was lying under the covers in a bed in the famous hospitalisation room, with its white walls and charming surgery room atmosphere. There was the Professor, Jean, that big blue beast McCoy, Rogue and Piotr gathered over him, asking questions, took his blood sample, and in general, doing nothing immediate to help him. What could make it any worse? Oh yeah, he was as useless as a mute vegetable – he could not even make a funny snort to get their attention now. His eyes darted from person to person in extreme alarm.

Jean had to ask, "How d'you know about the hospitalisation room?"

Remy noted Piotr blushing shamefully. Magneto and his blueprints of the Institute back in the old days. DON'T WASTE MY BLOODY TIME!

"HEY!" Rogue yelled above everyone's off-topic chattering. GOOD GIRL!"He's dyin' here!" YOU TOOK THE WORDS AND TONE RIGHT OUT OF MY NEAR-DEATH MOUTH_. _"Got any ideas?!"

McCoy shook his head. OH NO NO NO! DON'T SHAKE YOUR HEAD ON ME! "I can't trace it. His body must have absorbed all the poison." he said quietly, lifting his head from the microscope or whatever that fragile gadget was. I AM DEAD. WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA WAS IT TO COME TO THE INSTITUTE? "Professor, do you know any mutants with the ability to heal?"

NO! GUYS, STOP SHAKING YOUR HEADS!"None with the specific talent." said the Professor. "But, there is someone who can alter reality and take control of any physical situation."

"Wanda." Rogue piped in before the rest could register what the Professor had said.

OH GOD, THE SCARLET WITCH. JUST SHOOT ME WHILE YOU'RE AT IT! His eyes went berserk in his sockets.

"Relax, Remy. Professor, Ah'll get her." She took out her phone and had her friend on the line. "Wanda... Rogue... It's an emergency! Rem – Gambit's been poisoned and nobody knows a shit what it is... No... You don't know how? Please! ... Hey, shut that screamin' over there! ... Pyro... Oh God, thank you!" She signalled the OK GAMBIT WON'T BE DYING TODAY. MERCI MON DIEU (THANK YOU GOD). He wished he could jump around but if he could he would not be in this mess and there would be nothing to jump for. Ouch. Thinking hurts. "I owe you... Bring Pyro? What for? ... Yeah, sure. See yah." She hung up.

He fixed his eyes on Rogue. _Oh God, Rogue... How can Ah ever return the favour? Ah don't think Ah ever said this to any woman before – _

Rogue glanced at him, blinked a blanked face then turned to the others. _Hey, does my confession matter so little to you, Chéri?_ "Mystique did it." she said plainly, in almost controlled monotony._ Oh. She must be hurting very bad right now._

"Do you know why?" asked the Professor.

"No." Remy stared questioningly at her. It smelt like a lie. She had absorbed his most recent thoughts and memories, how could she not know? "It was very brief contact. The only thing Ah got in mah head is his voice repeatin' 'Poison poison! Ah'm dyin'!'" Oh, alright. He guessed his panic attack must have overthrown everything else that was not related to death.

Quiet. Nobody wanted to provoke the moment lest a certain adopted daughter exploded like an angry bomb. Abruptly she turned and left the room. That cannot be a good sign. It meant that she knew why. Remy's eyes travelled to each remaining person's face, wondering if anyone else saw what he saw. _Non, personne ne le sait_ (No, nobody knows).

Ah should get someone to follow her before she does something completely impulsive and stupid, maybe with homicidal results. HELLO! Can someone notice my eyeballs rolling around? No, everyone was absorbed in their discussion of Mystique's motives. _Mérde!_

Running footsteps was coming this way.

"REMY!!!!!" screamed an all too familiar, Australian accented voice.

Oh no, Pyro, you maniac! Before he registered the orange-flamed hair in his face, his bare throat was seized and he was violently shaken like a rag doll. Ah. Can't. Breathe!

"DON'T DIE ON ME, MATE!"

Ack. Ack. Ah am about to if you don't quit stranglin' me like that!

"I KNOW I NEVER SAID THIS TO YOU BEFORE BUT I ALWAYS SUPPORTED YOU AND THAT RED HEAD!" He turned away to Jean and said, "Not you, I mean Rogue." Then back to Remy. "I KNOW THIS SOUNDS FAG-ISH BUT YOU'RE MY BEST MATE EVER! LIKE THAT TIME YOU GOT MY HEAD OUT OF TOILET? AND THAT OTHER TIME WHEN I LOCKED MYSELF IN THE FREEZER? REMEMBER THAT TIME WE RAIDED OLD MAG'S BOX AND WE WERE ALMOST CAUGHT THEN YOU PLANTED ALL THAT EVIDENCE ON SABRETOOTH AND WE DIDN'T GET SCREWED? AND YOU ALWAYS TOOK ME TO AN ABANDONED JUNKYARD SO I CAN BURN STUFF WITHOUT LOSING MY JOB! OH GOD, REMY, I LOVE YOU, MATE!" And he hugged him.

Ooh... the room is spinning. Alright, Ah'm touched but Ah'm still dyin' here, you stupid faggot! Remy's eyes rolled to Piotr, whose face was contorted with silent laughter. _Not funny, Muscles._ _Get him off me!_

Piotr understood that look and tore the Australian from the Cajun. That was some nasty touching. Remy would have shivered at the thought of sharing a passionate hug with another male if he could. Oh good! Here's Wanda getting over to him. C'mon, don't eye me and him like that! You can have John, he's all yours alright?

"I'm not sure if I can do it, Professor." she muttered. "I don't have the slightest idea how. And where's Rogue?"

"Rogue needed some time alone." Professor Xavier replied calmly to the Maximoff girl. "This is only a suggestion, but perhaps skin contact would make it easier for your powers to make an effect."

"Okay, I'll give it a shot." Then she frowned on Remy. W-What? "Can you guys get him unconscious? I don't feel comfortable with this at all."

Great. Another syringe of another unnatural substance in his body. Ouch! ... Ooh... Ah... Yawn!

* * *

_A blackout later..._

He numbly felt a woman's hand on his forehead and on his chest. The pressure slowly became more real until consciousness allowed him to feel nothing under his back. His fingers felt no sheets, his head no cushion and a chill caressing his bare skin. He could feel! He let a line of vision into his eyes then shot them open with a groan. He could speak! He gave his head a small shake. He could move!

"Hey!" growled a deep, female voice. "Stay still!"

Oh, right, the Scarlet Witch was working. He shut himself up. He felt himself descending and a bed under him. He must have been floating half a foot above the bed.

She gave a heavy sigh and removed her hands. John ran and grabbed a chair for her to sit. Then – NO...!

He jumped on Remy again. "REMY!!!!!" Ack. "YOU'RE ALIVE!"

"Appreciate it." Remy muttered. Ah'll just... pat his back.

"Good to have you back." Piotr smiled with a raw, unmistakable sigh of relief.

"Good to be back." Yeah, it was. Ah never thought Ah would owe a Maximoff my life. "Wanda." Better to say it sitting up. "Thanks." She grumbled something he could not catch. "You alright?"

"I'm drained." She slouched over. "John, hands off!"

"Why?" Pyro whined. "I just wanna help you!"

"'Cos you hugged _him_."

Hey, hey, hey! Don't you get any ideas. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I drove and she flew Lance's jeep over the traffic." John grinned. Wow, and looks like he did not crash the vehicle this time. Having a woman in his life has done him good. Meanwhile, Remy was nearly killed.

Speaking of which, Rogue was not here. "Where's Rogue?" he asked no one in particular.

"She is in her room." McCoy answered. "But I think the question is how do you feel?"

"Pretty good." Remy stretched. Time Ah got out of here and find out what that girl is up to.

"Well, we all agree you should stay here until tomorrow." _Well_, that sucks. "It would be easier to keep an eye on you in case Mystique tries her shenanigan again." That is a very discreet way of saying Wanda may not have done a complete job.

Ah'll trust them. "Fine."

"Well, mate!" John slapped Remy's shoulder. "Prof, can me and Wanda stick around the undead Cajun?"

Professor Xavier smiled. "Of course."

Bah.

"But, could you all wait outside while Jean and I speak to Remy about this poisoning case?"

Uh oh. Trouble's on me. Everyone cleared out in a jiff, leaving Gambit and the two telepaths of the house.

"Like Rogue said," Remy decided to start it. "Mystique did it. To get her daughter back."

The telepaths exchanged glances. "Rogue didn't say that last part." Jean noted.

Keep it secret. "Ah wasn't thinkin' it when she absorbed my thoughts. True, Ah was obsessed with death at that point."

"Rogue's reaction to the knowledge she absorbed had a large effect on her, rather alike the times when Mystique had made use of her." Xavier was cross-questioning him.

"Experience tells me just knowin' whodunnit would get her upset."

"Let's have the story from the top."

Sigh. Here we go! So he spilled 90% of the beans to them and added some peanuts to fill in the blanks. And they bought the mash-up. Whew.

"Mystique is bound to try again." Jean concluded. How wise of you.

"Perhaps." replied the Professor. "What do you think?"

"Ah think she ain't doin' it anytime soon." She is crazy, but not stupid. "Or eva again. She knows if Ah live Ah'll tell the tale. If she comes back, she'll need the hospital, not me."

"Good answer. Rest well." Just as he left, he pointed to a corner of the wall. "There's a camera monitoring the entire room, just so we know you are safe. Then again, there's an intercom on that remote control attached to your bed if you need anything urgent."

And he was left alone. And already he was bored. He pulled the covers over to get the sleep he had missed.

"Hey Remy!" came an Australian accent. Alright, Ah'm not bored!

"You clods are pretty close." Wanda said, arms hanging at her sides instead of crossed. She looked almost like she was in a sweet temper.

So was that a trick question? "Too close." he replied with a grin at John.

"I didn't think you guys cared either way." She sat down on the chair. "I always thought you were just teammates who had to tolerate one another. _Like back at the Brotherhood_. They don't take anything seriously, except for Lance."

"We were at first!" quirked Pyro, sitting on the bed. Hey, who invited you? "Then he got my head out of the toilet and we kinda buddied up!"

Wanda grimaced, "What was your head doing in the toilet anyway?"

Remy poked John with his foot. Females should not know. "Don't ask."

"Don't think I wanna know either..."

"Er, yeah." Pyro blushed, twiddling his thumbs.

Change topic. "Hey, Ah didn't puff yesterday." Remy told John.

"Don't believe you." John grinned. "What stopped you?"

"A bunch of pansies stopping us from watching Avatar© and Ah guess, Rogue herself."

"Mate, you're gettin' soft!"

"Oh yeah? Who's the one not burning down a building yet in 72 hours?" He cocked his head toward Wanda.

"I'll burn your sheets."

"Better to burn hers, _non_?"

"Shut up."

"Yeah, shut up." Wanda butted in. Alright, alright, don't kill me after saving me.

"By the way," Pyro had a funny smile on. "You and Rogue are on YouTube for that movie thing. It's in today's paper. Heading? Bayville Mutants Earn 15million views Overnight. How about that?"

"_Bande d'enfoirés_ (Bloody bastards). Don't they got anythin' better to do?"

"No." replied Wanda. "It's on the front page too."

"Ah, sorry I brought it up." Pyro fished a pack of cards from his pocket. "Big Blue thought this might help pass the time. He said you looked unhappy that you're cooped up. Do the honours?"

Halfway through the silent game, Wanda laid down a Royal Flush.

What the... "How in hell did you do that?" Remy said slowly and menacingly. No way had this teen girl just got me on mah own game.

She blinked.

"Isn't she clever?" Pyro quipped, laying down his cards. "Clever, pretty and very caring."

"You think so?" Her eyes were locked on John.

Remy knew that look. Ooh, it was _the_ look that a girl gives a guy when she's turned –

"I know so." Pyro answered, goofily, but his gaze had the same signal.

Oh no, not here please. "Could you take this outside?"

Too late. They were kissing right in front of Remy. If it was just a brief nip, he would not have minded at all. But John had leaned over her and they were lip-locked, cards dropped over the floor. It was alright still, it was alright. Until the tonguing started and everything was a-moaning and a-groaning. Remy grinned, picked up the cards and began shuffling them around.

"Oi!" He laughed as the make-out spilled onto his bed. They are gonna need space so he sat himself in a corner, watching the heated love fest and loving the passion. Hey, it was a free peep show.

* * *

Rogue came in after John and girlfriend left (red-faced and their body temperatures raised). Thank God! He needed a dose of sanity right about now.

"What're you doin'?" she asked. Curiously, her tone was light hearted.

"Maybe Logan's behind those lens." He gave a last wave at the camera and grinned.

"You don't want a death encounter from him." she joked and sat on the chair Wanda and Pyro just had their make out on. "How you feelin'?"

"Would've felt better if it was your face and not the Scarlet Witch's Ah saw at first sight."

No, seriously, where have you been? "Ah was... Knowin' it was Mystique... Ah just needed time alone."

"In your room?" Were you really alone?

"Ah had the music on."

"Rogue..." Don't lie to me.

"Can we change the subject please?"

Sigh. Not today then. "Alright." Then he threw in a smile. "This is the first Saturday Ah'm spendin' indoors."

"Where'd you go?"

"No agenda. Just gettin' out. You don't go anywhere?"

"Ah used to, until this discrimination thing started." Oi, _Chéri_, you just killed the convo. She fingered the sheets. "Ah got stuck here too. A year ago, when mah power's went outta control."

Ooh, new topic. "You tellin' me Ah'm in the same bed you slept in?"

She forced down a smile. "Yeah."

"So we're sharin' a bed."

"In a way."

"Too bad for the camera." Like Ah give a damn.

"Too bad for the camera." Like she gave a damn.

"There's space for two."

"Then move your ass."

* * *

**!!!  
so did you manage to guess who died? NO! NOT REMY I WILL NEVER KILL OFF THE SEXY CAJUN! YOU PEOPLE WILL KILL ME If I TRIED! hahaha**

**hmmm...wonder who is on watch duty on the camera... hahaha yay REVIEW THIS CHAPTER PLEASE DON'T JUST SET FAVOURITES&ALERTS! MERCI!**


	11. Gambit taught me French!

**Hey babes! Weird mood now... sorry if i'm scaring you by calling you that. hahaha  
Enjoy!  
Don't forget to R&R later! i'm very insecure about this chapter. i feel there is not enough funny in it. tell me what you think! suggestions&requests appreciated!**

**

* * *

**

Living the X-Men Life 11

Rogue could not stay and Saturday night passed uneventfully, except when Logan popped by to drop some dinner. The ex-soldier carrying a tray looked like a buff nurse.

"Look bub, Ah don't like the look Rogue's carryin' around – " Uh oh. He was gonna get it for putting his hands where they should not be. "– and Ah don't believe you told Chuck everythin'." Whew, so that's what he meant. Oi... Just as bad. "Spill, Cajun."

Remy dared to look him in the eye.

* * *

Sunday was a greater pain. When he thought he could finally jump out of the room for a smoke, McCoy said he must run another bloody blood test.

Then when he wanted to roar up his bike, the Professor was against mutants going out on Sundays, it being a public holiday for a public that hated them. So he vanished somewhere on the property to have his two sticks worth of relief. Then he felt like having a beer. Where could he get one in a _school_? Though a stupid idea, he searched the fridge and...found a Heineken can under the vegetables. An hour later, he had to blow up the empty can when Logan started a 'WHERE IS MY BEER" rampage.

John called him up to wish him a good day. Random.

Everyone was wondering if his brain was functioning enough to teach the next day, especially 'his students', who gave him the mischievous look that said "If he's feeling alright, we'll poison him ourselves." Har. Har. He was fine, although still with no idea how a class should go.

The best part of the day was that Rogue wanted to spend more of her time with him. He did not know the reason and he did not need to. Well, he figured that he knew the reason enough to not ask.

* * *

_0920 hours, a.k.a. 20 minutes into French Class time..._

Rogue sat there in curiosity and panic. She had waked him up! And she met him at breakfast an hour ago! Where on God's earth was he?

Jean sat behind her. "Where's the teacher?"

"Ah've no idea."

"I'll go find him!" volunteered Ray.

"Not that old trick, Berzerker." Scott grinned at the memory and must be imagining it happening to Remy.

"Oh well," Tabitha laughed. "At least he knows _when_ to be fashionably late."

"Yeah!" Bobby added. "This means we've got a free period!"

Immature creeps.

Then the door slid back with a _whoosh!_ and in stepped the Frenchman sipping a cup of coffee. No books. No papers. No nothing. What is he doing? Rogue stared. Remy did not tell her about his plans but never in hell did she expect this. Upon passing her, she had a whiff of cigarette smoke on him. That explained why he was late.

"You're late." It was early in the morning and Jean has started her nagging campaign already.

Remy calmly put down his cup. "Ah'm not late. Class can't start without me, so Ah can't be late. You guys are early."

Everyone exchanged what-the-hell glances and the younger students laughed. Remy looked very pleased with himself. She felt herself smile with some pride. Oh, he had planned this scene. What's next?

***

Ah, yes. The situation was working out exactly as he had planned.

"So where's our assignments?" Amara shot at him, folding her arms.

Remy smiled. It was almost like she was prompting him. Next line: "Let's just get one thin' straight. Homework for you, means homework for me."

The kids were cheering. Good! Respect down, now to get them to like me.

From the corner of his eye he noticed Scott holding Jean back. "He's on a roll, Jean. Don't interrupt."

Alright, now to address some 'formal' issues. "Okay, Ah don't want you kids callin' me 'Mr. LeBeau' in this here room, or _anywhere else_. Makes me feel old."

"Gambit, we have rules here –" Jean was interrupting again...

Third line: "That's Mister LeBeau to you, _Madame_." He shot back.

The class went "Oooh! Someone got busted up! PWNED!"

Let's write that down on the board... _MADAME_. "Say it like 'ma-dam'. Means...?"

C'mon, kids, it's a giveaway! "Madam?" suggested, er, who was this small boy?

"Well, duh!" scoffed Bobby. Uh oh, Remy was losing it. "Genius answer, Jamie!"

Better throw in the fifth line: "Hit me with any French words you know." He sipped his coffee and took up the chalk. He was not expecting any intelligent answers.

"Escargots!" Dumb blonde boy. But he wrote it down.

"Rendezvous." purred Tabitha. Oh, Rogue don't look too happy.

He shook his head. "English word."

"Lasagna!" Who the bloody hell said that? Iceboy. Ah'll remember you.

"Italian."

"Pasta!" And the kids laughed.

Italian fanatics! Bet they are trying his nerves out. "_Vissez-vous tout_." he grinned instead of the expected pissed face they wanted.

"What did you call us?" challenged Bobby.

"It's so a bad word." Tabitha waggled her finger accusingly.

"Words." Ah, they are smiling again. "Means 'Screw you all'." Gotta write that down... VISSEZ-VOUS TOUT.

Another laughter uproar.

"So what? You want us to, like, note it down?" Amara was prompting him again. Ah like this one.

Sixth line and whatever number comes next: "Ah told yah, Ah don't do school." He sat on the teacher's desk and sipped his coffee. "And Ah was thinkin' maybe you guys would like it outside than in. So here's the deal..." He started toying with the chalk between his fingers. He had their full attention with the last sentence. Good good good! "Every lesson Ah'll write on this board a few French words. The top three who know the most of 'em get to leave halfway through the lesson."

The class started screaming and yelling in pure joy. Alright gotta get these monkeys back in the cage. "Hey shut up! Listen, you gotta pronounce the words right too."

"Then what happens to the rest of us?" Rogue chirped.

Ah, finally you said something, _Chéri_. "You're stuck with me..." he smiled. "And Ah'll teach some other words that will appear next lesson."

Bobby immediately stood up. "Hey man! That's no fair! You're playing us!"

"_Non_. Ah'm just givin' you a choice, _garçon_." Write that down too...NON. GARÇON. "'No'. 'Boy'."

"Who's 'pwned' now?" teased Scott.

Remy gave the what-kind-of-language-is-'pwned' face.

"Let's have a trial run, shall we?" He then filled the board with random words and phrases so the kids started freaking out. Obviously nobody knew nothing of what he wrote. "Ah'll go easy on you this time. So these _mots_ (words) are gonna appear tomorrow. Who needs paper?"

Distributing sheets of white he found from the desk drawer, he went from one word to another. "_Salut, petit!_ Guess."

"Something, small!"

How clever... "English screwed French vocab. _Petit_ is 'kid'. Someone small-sized. Think 'bout it, you boys are not gorillas like Wolverine, are you?"

"So _salut_'s gotta be a greeting-like, right Gambit?" Amara asked. You're a little too formal here, _petit_.

He nodded.

"Is it, 'hi'?" Ah, the smallest fry... Who is he again?

Anyway, Remy snapped his fingers and crossed the phrase away. "_Non-sens_."

"Nonsense, duh!"

"And _connerie_?"

"C'mon man! You gotta put it in a sentence or something!"

"Means nonsense. The less polite word for it..."

"OH!" And the kids scribbled it down without mentioning, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm so gonna use it on Logan!" "Me too!"

You got that. Remy had the same smile as theirs on. "Yeah, you can swear whatever you want and nobody can touch you for it."

"Remy, you shouldn't be teaching these kids vulgarities!" Jean, Jean, Scott. "It's just not becoming of X-Men!"

"It's self-defence. Alright, it stops here." The kids went 'Awww!" "Ah'm not gonna fill their young heads with words like '_putain'_... _'chatte'_... '_hybride_'... Oh no, no." Oh dear, it seems Ah already have!

"What they mean? What they mean?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Next – ah! – _Mon favori _(my favourite)..." Rogue, this is for you. "_Amour_." he purred.

"Gawd..." Tabitha drawled.

Remy rolled his eyes elsewhere. If you want Rogue on your lap, ignore her. "Guesses?"

"Got something to do with love."

"Duh-obvious."

"A crush?"

Remy half-sat on the desk, picking up his coffee. "Here's a clue: Jean is Scott's _amour_." It's gone cold. He charged up the coffee and steamed it up.

"Girlfriend!"

Remy drew suggestive circles in the air. "Keep it comin'..."

"Boyfriend?" "First love?" "Friend?" "I donno!"

He was gonna get a kick out of this. Possibly a telekinetic one. "Lover." He grinned behind the cup.

The kids went "Oooh...!"

"Hey!" Jean shot back. "That's enough, Gambit!"

Ah thought so. Now what is with the defensiveness and all that? He threw up innocent hands. "No, in French, we use 'lover' – 'love interest'. What are you thinkin' about Jean?"

That got her and she sat back down as the kids had another round of "Oooh...!" "PWNED!"

This 'pwned' thing is getting irritating. What's next on this board... Eh, let them pick what they want to learn. "Any word you like. Choose."

"What's that – er, GER-TA-ME?"

Oh God, they had just destroyed the French language's most beautiful phrase! "_Je'taime_, _petit_! _SHER-TAM_. The 'J' – 'SH'. 'CH' in this – _chéri_ – here too. _Je'taime_ is 'I love you'." Some are starting to glance at poor, pink-faced Rogue. Hey, _chéri_, no need to be ashamed of me! "_Garçons_ _et filles _(Boys and girls), this'll help you get some _amours_."

Immediately the Blonde Boy leaned toward Tabitha.

And Tabitha responded before he even said it. "Dream on, Sam. Nookie girls your own age." Look who is talking.

"PWNED!"

Remy shook his head. One more 'pwned'. "Anything else?" He glanced at the clock. "Ah've only got... Two more minutes."

"What?! But there' still so many words left!"

"Alright." Remy got off his lazy bum. "Write fast, _petits_." He pointed to words all over the board and stated their meanings. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Cat. Dog. Baby. Lady. Sexy. Club. Seven. Six. Ten. Father. Mother. Eight. Nine. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Ah can't stand you. Brother. Friend. Best friend. Good job. Bad habit. Nutcase. Red. Black. Green. Book. Game. Ah'm surprised. Idiot. You scared me. Money. Food. Drink. Eat. Where do Ah go from here. What are you wearin'. What is this. Ah don't know." He stepped back and watched the frantic scribbling. Were these kids that desperate to escape class? Poor, deprived souls.

"Oh my gawd, my hand!"

"Alright?" he asked.

"Man, you're the most slack teach we ever had!"

"Yeah, even Mister McCoy doesn't come close!"

"Wait! I wanna know how to pronounce this stuff!"

Remy felt surprise slap his face. "You wanna stay?" He glanced around to Scott and Jean.

"There's Logan's training session right now. That's why."

Remy grinned. Good excuse kids. Just that it will get me killed.

"Please...?" begged Amara.

But, hey, they like me better. "Put in a good word to Logan for me and we've got a deal."

* * *

"You're such an idiot." Rogue scolded him after the class that was interrupted by McCoy dropping by to find the kids who were on Logan's wanted list.

"You really think so?" Remy dusted his shirt with some hurt pride. "Ah thought Ah was doin' great."

"You did." They started out of the classroom. "But you don't give a damn about teachin', d'you?"

"Ah said Ah don't know how. Best bet is give 'em a few words and see how they use it. Practice."

"Well, Remy," greeted the Professor along the corridor.

"Ah'll catch you later." Rogue took her leave of the scene. Why? Just when Ah wanted to ask her out today.

"How did the lesson go?"

"Not bad. Nobody left the class. The kids have some basic vocab." He never liked debriefs. Not that he had anything against Xavier but why must leaders always have a talk _after_ you get the job done? Magneto was the worst. The old man could talk so long Piotr had to nudge him awake.

"That's good. Do you think the younger students are taking to you?"

"Too much. Now they're late for Logan's training session."

The Professor smiled humorously. Must be some inside joke. "Yes, I agree he pushes them over their limits. But it has helped them by leaps and bounds." He paused. "Let's walk."

Debriefs. Something about it is annoying.

"I apologise if yesterday was too uneventful for you."

"Nothin' to apologise about." Remy sensed this was not the point he wanted to bring up as they passed Piotr and Kitty around the corner.

When the Professor was convinced no one was within hearing, he got back on track. "Logan is openly avoiding the subject and getting the students here to forget about it. I'll not pester Rogue about it either."

"Ah can't tell you much more either, Professor." Better cut him off before he psychos me into spilling.

"What makes me an untrustworthy ear? That is all I want to know."

Oh no. He could feel the psych starting. "Ah think – and Logan – We want Rogue to deal with it before anythin' else."

"It's that serious now."

Remy nodded.

"I hoped to have some X-Men track down Mystique. After this ugly incident I cannot risk another one of her freelance acts. But I suppose I shall displace the idea now that it is possibly... settled?"

"That's one word to use." Remy replied wryly.

"I'm counting on Logan and yourself to handle the matter. Take care of her."

Can Ah go now?

"On a better note, there is a training session with the more mature group this afternoon. Logan has planned the sequence. And it would be a good way to get to establish some common ground with the rest."

"Thanks, Professor." He walked on ahead. "Later." Playing with the Wolverine?!

Welcome to the X-Men.


	12. Playing with Wolverine

**Living the X-Men Life 12**

"Alright, bub." Wolverine had his game face on that made Remy just a _wee_ nervous. "Let's dance."

"Ladies first." Remy grinned at the ex-soldier.

The two men kept pace, drawing a circle between them. Logan had his claws out. Remy was keeping his staff handy, his cards within easy reach on his uniform.

Above the Danger room where they were mentally testing each other, the senior students were watching anxiously. There was cash piled on the table and popcorn and drinks were passed around.

The moment has reached its climax.

It was apparently the Professor's idea for the senior students to battle each other within an obstacle course session. They were past mock-fighting soldiers and Sentinels and other circumstances involving humans, so it was time for them to understand themselves and where they level at in their own field. Not like the adults like Gambit, Colossus and Wolverine needed it, but they were considered the top dogs for the kids to measure up to.

Remy did not find the pairings fair in the first round of elimination. Rogue versus Colossus? Muscles went weak when it came to fighting against the ladies otherwise he was merciless. Scott versus Gambit was the dumbest thing because Gambit was not shy to blast him off his feet, but Cyclops was. The boy needs to learn ruthlessness. Jean versus Shadowcat was an interesting watch although the winner was as expected – Jean the telepath. Wolverine versus Nightcrawler was comedy. But the joke was on Fuzzy when he poofed smack into Logan's arms. Dead and dead.

The players left were Gambit, Wolverine, Rogue and Jean. So it was Gambit versus Jean and Wolverine versus Rogue. Fair enough – although he could see everyone wanted to see him and Rogue hit it. Remy figured he would have lost; he would not attack her and instead defended himself like crazy but Rogue would have cruelly sucked the living daylights out of him. That was how she worked and he knew it. Bad _chéri_!

Wolverine beat Rogue, in Remy's opinion, only because he knew more fighting styles than she did. Teacher against a student who was barely half his age. Not fair. He tripped her and pinned her down.

"Don't even think about it." Wolverine growled at her when she was about to nut him good. Bad _chéri_! Bad _chéri_! Ah love you.

Jean was annoyingly difficult. She, unlike her other half, was not afraid to slam objects in Gambit's direction at murderous speeds. She had even tried to pick him up. He kept dodging behind obstacles and running every time her hands twitched. Finally he decided to end this, throwing a charged set of Diamonds to explode around her, blinding her. In her moment of bewilderment, he jumped her. Of course she screamed like any decent lady would as he covered her eyes and made her spin out of control. She flung things to get him off her back but he held on for dear life. It was either a death-defying ride or a four storey drop. Soon he tired her out and on her own, she lowered them down. Victory to New Orleans over Beverly Hills! Well, maybe she was not from there but she smells like one.

Now it was Wolverine and him. The final showdown for the day.

The floor began to move and shift, rise and sink. The men were separated in a maze. To get them moving, huge metal balls began rolling their way. Gambit jumped off the path and onto the maze walls itself so he got himself a bird's eye view, the ball rumbling away behind him. _Where does a gorilla with adamantium claws hide?_ He scanned the premise then decided to stroll atop the thin walls. _No need to waste energy fretting_.

"ARGH!" Something was coiled around his waist and wrist. Cold metal tentacles. _Wonderful._ The kids were laughing up there too. He snatched up a card, charged it then sliced it through the metal. He was free. The machine slunk back and he kept the coil that he had cut off. _Might use it to tame myself a Wolverine_.

He heard the scratching _scriiiii_ of metal meeting metal.

He jumped. The maze wall previously below him gave way and there was a sound like an angry snort. _Uh oh, gotta keep jumping_. He leapt from wall to wall as the metal kept falling apart behind him. _Slice this!_ He stooped his hand to contact the wall he stood on then ran far before the metal exploded in Wolverine's face.

He decided to stay topside so he could catch movement before it caught him. Shards of material flew in all directions and the resulting smoke gave the old man advantage of cover, but Remy kept his eyes peeled. His staff moved in line with his sight. Careful. Quiet. Tension jarring in the air. Gambit kept walking. Paceful. Slow. On his guard. He cannot lose. He would not lose. There was self-pride and dignity at stake here! This was not for Rogue. The rest were the ones who would not drop the opportunity to gossip. Oh no, not on his life was he going to lose.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Kitty point a couple of yards behind him. Jean immediately stopped her. Gambit smiled. _Thanks petit._

He jumped as he figured Logan must be lunging for him by now. A glimpse told him _yeah and he was pissed._ A backflip later he landed on the ground, threw a card at the other man's face then one more at the wall stood on.

Wolverine moved faster than he predicted. Too fast. Gambit ran for it. He high-jumped the wall. And the next. And the next. And the next. Because Wolverine was following him. He dropped his fighting staff.

Then he ducked under the fifth. Logan soared above him. In a split, Gambit aimed the coil to lock around his backwardly thrust wrists. The Wolverine was tied.

Gambit yanked him down to earth. An animal grunt later, a tripping kick swung in Gambit's direction. Too fast to avoid. The first blow of the day for Gambit as his butt made contact with the floor. Then his face barely avoided the flying boots.

He should have rolled away instead because Wolverine had checkmated him with that move. Either he got smashed or he was leg-locked, which he currently was. He struggled only to end up with his back against his opponent. His arms were trapped and he was not flexible enough to wiggle out in any way. Damnit. Ah was so freaking close.

"Give it up, bub."

"Likewise." He struggled again. "Got you tied."

"Likewise."

From the speakers above, came an applause. "That was a good show guys." laughed Cyclops. The maze retracted and those old giant balls rolled home. But he was still locked between Wolverine's powerful legs. _It's the adamantium_, he told himself.

"C'mon guys, break it up!" called Scott, a tinge of worry in his voice.

Remy tested Logan's grip. No, no sign of letting him go. Shit man, it was just a game!

"Logan, just relax." Jean tried to coax him off. As if _that_ would work.

A door opened into the Danger Room. Then he let go.

Remy quietly moved away. Gotta free the bonds on him. "Ah'll give you a hand with that..."

Logan snarled. Remy moved back. Rogue was the one who had the sense to drop down and she went behind Logan to untie him.

"Don't hurt him." Remy heard her say.

"Ah'll try." was the menacing reply. Logan got to his feet and Remy took the cue to stand up at the same time. "That was a good move." Was, er, that a compliment? "Never saw that before."

Better to play it cool. "Still not fast enough to get it done, though."

"Got that right."

Remy offered a handshake that Logan barely took notice off before he turned his heel, the picture of offended pride. Damn. Rejection. Damn.

Rogue walked up to Remy. "Logan just doesn't like bein' measured up." She suddenly smiled. As much as he could take it as sweet, it was also hiding something. "Too bad you did good down here."

Uh oh. "Ah did?" He tried to make light of it, complete with a grin.

"Yeah. Now you gotta sleep tonight with one eye open."

Oh damn. Murder at the Mansion. And nobody will find his body. "Ah'll camp out t'nite then."

"Alone in the dark makes killin' you easier."

"Do Ah have to be alone in the dark?" C'mon, Rogue, say no.

"What, mah clean room for a mosquito-infested tent? No thanks." Yeah, but Ah think we wouldn't be getting enough sleep for a different reason.

"Hey Rogue," Kitty bounded up. "Oops, sorry for cutting in! But we better, like, shower now before Jean, know what I mean? She takes forever!"

Remy could not resist replying, "The whole Institute knows what you mean, Kitty."

"Shhh! Don't tell her I said that. By the way, Logan's probably gonna kill you in your sleep. So try to make it up to him or something."

Remy raised an eyebrow. _Like_, was it my fault Ah nearly won?

* * *

Word got around that Gambit had matched Wolverine in a fight. Then it became Gambit had just nailed Wolverine. Then it exaggerated into he had kicked Wolverine's ass. Finally Remy felt certain death on his heels when the small fry came up to him and asked "How did you totally pwned Logan?"

And he did not even know the meaning of 'pwned'. "Ah didn't, _petit_."

"But everyone's saying –"

Remy bent down to look the kid in the eye. "If everyone said you were a girl, would it make you a _femme_?"

"No..."

"Now go tell everyone you're not a _femme_ and Ah didn't... _pwned_ Logan, alright?" He patted the boy on the shoulder. Ah hate that word.

"Okay." And the kid hopped off somewhere. Now, what was that boy's name again?

* * *

Remy was in the kitchen, fully dressed, a cup of coffee on the side and a game of solitaire in front. He sipped and he played. He sipped and he played. 11PM. 12PM. 1AM. Yawn.

He heard footsteps coming. Light and gentle ones. Alright, definitely a lady. He was still safe. He smiled a "_Bonsoir_ (Good evening)." to the African lady in an exquisite blue dressing gown and matching robe.

"What are you doing up so late?" Ororo asked with some surprise, heading for the fridge.

"Logan threatened to kill me in my sleep."

She laughed. "He doesn't mean it." She sat down opposite him with cold leftovers. "You don't mind?"

"_Non_, could use the company." He took the bowl from her and mildly charged it so the food was heated up. "You're sure he doesn't."

"Thank you. He would have a grudge, but he won't kill you."

"Just as bad."

"Even Charles is not spared." She thought for a moment. "There was once when Kitty had just got her driving permit. Charles wanted Jean and Scott to drive with her but Logan interrupted the scene. Without knowing what was going on, he volunteered thinking it was some dangerous mission that he could go wild on. Sometimes, he doesn't _think_. So Charles handed him the keys and Kitty... well, let's leave it at Logan was very angry by the end of it. Yes, it's very funny as long as you were not there. The next day, Logan drove Charles to an important meeting. But on the trip back, he let Kitty drive." She paused to get a drink.

"Encouraging." he replied.

"I've only one question for you." She smiled at him. "You played fair, didn't you?"

He could not recall breaking any codes of conduct as far as he could think of. "Yes."

"Then at most he would demand a rematch. Don't worry." She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she passed him to the sink.

"Good night, Ororo."

"Good night, Remy."

A few minutes after she left, while he was finishing the second coffee, another set of soft footsteps came. A white-streaked red head came into light, in long sleeved pyjamas.

"Ah thought she'd never leave." Rogue muttered, half annoyed, half happy.

"What're you doin' up so late?" he grinned, pulling out a chair for her to sit beside him.

"Mosquitoes."

Yeah, sure. But, hey, whatever reason suits you. "They bite, huh?"

"Buzzin' around mah ears. They told me 'Go downstairs and take your frustration out on somebody.'"

"Oh..." He moved his chair closer. "The mosquitoes told you to come down here."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah." Without asking, she snatched up his coffee and finished it.

As if it were hers. "The mosquitoes told you to do that too, huh?"

"Uh huh." She put it in the sink. "So we don't break anythin' on the table."

It was amazing she could think so clearly in the middle of the night. "You could sit over here." He patted his lap. "Ah guarantee it'll work away all the frustration."

"Don't say you can't feel your legs later." Carefully, or so it seemed to him, she climbed aboard.

He pulled her ass closer so her body was pressed against his. Ah, she fits so well. "Trust me, there ain't gonna be any blood anywhere else but my – legs."

"Like now?" Her eyes glittered hungrily as she toyed with his shirt, strands of her hair falling on his face.

Card. Remy shot out a limb, knocking over the neat stack. Lousy hands, get a card! And held it over his lips. She instantly lowered her head and her warmth spread through the plastic. It was a damned pain not being able to feel how soft her lips were, how sweet she tasted, how pleasing her mouth was, how fierce her tongue might be. Her arms locked behind his head. His hands could let the silly card go and explore her body as he wished. Down her back, outlining her curves, under her thighs and squeezing her cute little virgin ass. He wanted to touch her so badly he ached, hard. This was not enough.

Seizing the card, he broke the kiss so abruptly her head, leaning into his, jerked past his.

"Remy!" she hissed.

You'll forget it in a moment, _mon chéri_. Without a word, he kept the card between himself and her skin as he kissed down her neck, making her gasp in delight. Instinctively she lifted her head to allow him to trail around to her ear and back down to her clothed collarbone. This time he kissed the cloth, pulling her closer to go over her shoulder. That was when he felt the thinness of her shirt; it was so thin he could feel that it was the only layer of clothing her upper body had on. He felt about for the strap or the cup, but all he could figure were the tight nips.

"Oh god," he moaned. "Where's your bra."

She smiled. "Ah don't wear it to sleep, Remy."

"Damn." he breathed over her chest. Her fingers clawed into him with a gasp.

So he kissed her. Travelling over the contours of her flesh, he paced his kisses, memorising her body, finding the places that made her noisy and treating her to a brief nibble where he found her. Not that he liked the taste of cotton much, but it pleased him to please her. She fitted his groin, the pressure of her weight on him feeling oh-so-right. He felt himself push harder and harder against her until he believed something was gonna blow tonight.

"It's gross," she leaned back in his arms. He gave her a puzzled look. _What, did Ah do something wrong?_ "But Ah think Ah like it."

She pressed into him. _Oh god_. He closed his eyes and moaned again.

"You should see your face." She leaned out again.

He read the gaze that was directed at his zipper. _Chéri, Ah'm open to anything you wanna do to me. Just go ahead._ She looked up at him.

_There ain't no need to ask permission._ "See somethin' you like?" he teased.

"No wonder it's called a stick." she murmured.

Remy grinned.

"It's so strange..."

_Ouch, that hurt._ "Really?"

"No." She quickly covered up. Hesitant. Uncomfortable. Maybe even embarrassed. She seemed to want to say something she did not appear ready to say.

"Enough talk, Rogue."

He captured her lips with the card again. Anything to get her mind off his 'pride and joy'. With a moan, she went boneless in his arms, clinging onto his shirt. If it were not buttoned right, it would have fallen off him. He pulled her body against his once more to fully enjoy the warmth between them. His hands had a mind of their own as blood rushed to load up in his boxers. Aching. He groaned.

Breathe.

They broke off. Panting, hands on intimate places, enjoying the fading heat of the moment.

Suddenly he remembered. Tomorrow. Lessons. At 0900h. "You bad gal." he grinned, patting her rump.

"What?"

"There's no way Ah can wake up and teach in seven hours."

"Hey, that's your problem." She slid off his lap.

Fine then! Play me that way. "Ah'll walk you t'your room."

Welcome to the X-Men.

* * *

**Author's note: i've decided to be more...organised in my work. haha  
yeah another chapter, another day passes for remy and the xmen. this story needs to get somewhere definate...like maybe a MUTANT D-DAY, WWIII (HUMANS VS. MUTANTS), MAGNETO COMES TO VISIT THE XMEN, BLABLABLA. i think i'm working on it. i like to just have everyday events but i have a feeling it's getting annoyingly repetitive.**

**Let me know if you agree! Reviews. we all love them. it advertises a fanfic,makes the story look good, but most IMPORTANTLY, makes a fanfic writer feel good to know she did good. THANK YOU SO VERY VERY MUCH!**

**- PEACE! =D**


	13. Lesson II

**Living the X-Men Life 13**

Remy scrambled into his clothes, his foot getting caught in his jeans, mismatching his socks and only buttoning up half his shirt, tossing his towel somewhere in the room then dashing into the corridor. _Rogue. You and your 'frustration' kept me awake all night. Tossing and turning and them hot dreams didn't help me either. _He did not see Muscles around the corner and broke his nose slamming into the Russian.

"Why are you in such a hurry so early in the morning?" Piotr asked serenely.

Ah've nodamntime! "It's 9.25AM for God's sake." He nursed his nose and launched into a sprint again.

"You do care about class." That made him jam on his brakes. "About the young ones."

He swerved round. "Well..." It's – It's quite nice to do something right. Besides, Ah made a good impression yesterday with them and, hell, Ah don't wanna screw them up! They are good kids. He was the grimy stain on your white shirt. He started a gesture in the air to cover for his lack of a verbal explanation. Forget this! "Rogue's there... You know."

"Sure. And I was born yesterday." The other man had that smile on, the smile that saw right through you. Piotr could do that. Remy figured it was a family-man thing, being the stronghold of the family and everything.

Remy flipped him the bird and resumed his morning run to the kitchen. One bite and his coffee. That was all he needed. At the doorpost, he heard voices. Instinct caused his senses to identify Logan, Xavier and Ororo in a snap. He halted, took a quiet inhale of self-assurance, buttoned up his shirt, arranged his hair the way it was supposed to flop then stepped in as the languid, devil-may-care Cajun he was known for.

The three heads turned. But they were all adults here.

"Hey." he greeted with a casual wave.

Ororo explained on his behalf. Nice lady, she was, really nice. "He had stayed up all night, Charles. Because Logan has started his death threats again."

The man in question grunted and continued with his newspaper.

Ooh, sticky buns! The best things for a quick bite. As he drew closer to the platter, Logan's eyes glared him down and the newspaper lowered. The motion was lazy enough, but the look had 'APPROACH WITH CAUTION' signs everywhere.

No quick movements. No funny sounds. Or the animal _will_ attack. "A sticky bun. Ah just want a sticky bun." He snatched it up before Logan could react, noticing the man's hand jerk slightly.

The Professor shook his head with light amusement and offered coffee, evident in his tone that Remy better get to class without further ado. Just as he was about to leave, Logan coughed a "Bub."

"Yeah?" he responded, idly turning.

"Doing anything purposeful with your time later?"

A rematch. Remy realised Ororo was right. Now, how does she know the gorilla so well? "Anytime, anyplace."

"Ah hope your bike's up to it."

Oh. A race. A match of their _joujous_ (toys) now. The game for big boys. "It's a date."

* * *

He walked into the class as cool and collected as the day before, a half-eaten bun in one hand and coffee in the other. The class greeted him with oohs and ahs and somebody sent a paper aeroplane soaring around. This time, Jean and Scott were absent. Awww, that was just too bad!

He cleared his throat for some attention. "Ah'm takin' two points from Bobby for that _avion _(aeroplane)."

"Hey, man!" The boy immediately got defensive. "I didn't do it!"

Remy shrugged, turning his back to lay down his breakfast bits. _Un_ (One)_. Deux _(Two)_. Trois _(Three)_._

"Thanks alot, Sam." Iceboy hissed.

"Ah bluffed, Iceboy." Remy drawled. "_Blond _(Blonde)..." He curled his finger to gesture the kid to come forward. The prankster was on toes as Remy put an arm around his very, very puny shoulders. Pity. Why don't boys nowadays have the balls he had at their age? "What d'you think Ah should do t'you for that."

Blonde glanced at his friends for suggestions. Remy kept his eyes on the kid's face. Let's see what smartass move these kids wanna pull on me today.

"Er..." he fidgeted, silently mouthing after his friends. "Buy... me... a beer?"

Laughter all around. Rogue shook her head, visibly amused.

Remy grinned. That was a nice move. Whether that happened or not, he was not a punishment type. At their age, he had gotten off with far worse. Mercy begets mercy, _non_?He shooed the boy offstage. "Get your ass lost." Then to the rest of the class, "In French: _Bouge ton cul_ (Move your ass/ Go away). Anyway, Ah'm a man of my word. Here's the words on the board here..." Apparently nobody had erased what he had written the day before, but there were scribbles in English below the phrases and words. These kids... studied what he taught them? That took his aback a little. Appreciation in the form of warmth passed through him before he recovered himself. Ahem. Professional face on. "Let's not waste paper. So just come up with a sound that you like and if you know the answer," He turned to rub away the translations. "Make noise."

"How are you gonna keep the score?" queried Amara.

Good point. Find some space on the board. Alright there is some. He drew a box. "In here." He noticed something. Papers with scribbles on everyone's table. "C'mon, no cheatin' in broad daylight. If you wanna fool your friends, make sure Ah don't see it." The tables were cleared with groans and muffled complaints. Neither pulled his heartstrings. "Let's begin, shall we?"

* * *

_Sounds the kids chose to represent themselves:_

"_Remy..." ~ Rogue (Remy suddenly forgot that his other students existed)_

_Motor engine ~ Sam_

_Logan's growl ~ Bobby (spooked Remy for a moment)_

_Electrical buzz ~ Ray, which he snapped his fingers to make it._

'_Just a little boom' ~ Tabby_

_Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! Me! ~ Jamie-s_

_Drumming on the table ~ Amara_

_Woot woot! ~ Roberto a.k.a. Sunspot_

_Bark! Bark! ~ Rahne_

_Small, glittery fireworks (that Remy had to dodge from time to time) ~ Jubilee (who apologised like crazy, hoping that endangering her teacher would not affect her grades)_

Remy rubbed his ears, grinning. The test was a goddamned success! Although at times his head was in mutant-harm's way and other adults kept nosing in when the kids got too loud. Kitty and Kurt had decided to stay and watch, figuring something fun was up and they wanted in. McCoy kept returning and finally decided to stay and 'see what the fuss is about'. Needless to say, he was impressed with Remy's methods. To quote, "_Peut-être plus de nous devraient être mis aux expériences proches de la mort._"

Was that a compliment? "Maybe more of us should be put to near-death experiences." He could do that all he liked, but to Remy, it was no joke. Nevermind, the blue Beast , who apparently knew French, meant well. Why did the Professor not get him to teach?

"Alright," Remy tallied their scores. "Bobby, Amara, Tabitha, _bouge ton cul_."

A paper ball found its way to his head. _Bonk!_

"Conveniently forgot about me." Rogue lowered her throwing hand.

"_Non._ Ah don't want you t'go." he grinned. The younger students exchanged glances.

"He's totally flirting in class!" "With his student..." "Huh! Whatever." "It's not even one week and he's..." "That's my sister!" "Shut up, Kurt! I'm seriously trying to hear what they're saying!"

"Ahem..." Remy felt the awkwardness of a ten-year-old. "Three of you. Not goin' out?"

"What d'you want us to do, man?" "If we leave now, we'll be so left behind tomorrow." "Seriously..."

He gave the are-you-sure-you-wanna-back-down-on-my-offer look then shrugged his shoulders. "Anytime you wanna go, go." Then he erased the board. "Alright, new words today. What d'you wanna learn?"

"Like, how about proper counting?" "How d'you read it?" "Basic vocab, duh!" "How are you, good morning, stuff like that!" "Where's the bathroom?"

Oh. Oh wow. This was... Amazing. Simply amazing. He had never expected the kids to actually want to learn. They impressed him as goofs who would rather be outside breaking things and running around creating havoc. But here they are. They are asking, asking him to teach proper stuff? Not the junk that gets their horny minds interested? He made a mistake. This is not what he had expected of teenagers. He had looked in a mirror and tried to get himself interested in him, thinking of what the kids thought. He thought wrong.

"Down the corridor, make a left." Remy kept a straight face as the kids threw 'Boo!'s at him. This was fun. Good, clean fun. He raised his palms in playful surrender. "Where's the bathroom... _là où est la salle de bains_. Get your pens out, _petits_. And someone phone up Logan, tell him you're gonna be late again."

* * *

"Can Ah count on you boys to help out with our rematch?"

"Sure thing, Logan."

"This $30 each says make it a tough terrain out there..."

* * *

Remy barely managed to lose Rogue after they snuck a moment in the privacy of her curtain-drawn, music-deafened room before the rematch with Logan. _Oui_, he would have loved to spend a little more time with the goddess body, but he needed to get a few 'formalities' prepared.

There was Amara and Tabitha in the library, right on cue.

He was in his element: girls. "You ladies not goin' with the boys t'day?"

"No," replied Tabitha, leaning toward him. _Is the girl so dense? Did she sleep in class?_ "And they don't want us around either."

"D'you know why?"

Probably. The boys have something planned. Or at least, are gonna bring a plan to pass. No, definitely bringing a plan to pass. They have nothing personal at stake. Oh, there is a mastermind behind this innocent facade. A dirty, dirt bike race. Remy shook his head ever so slightly. It's on _now _Logan.

"Wanna come along?" he offered casually. "It's a rematch between me and Logan. Bike racing."

"Logan had one with Sam before." Amara perked up. "And Bobby wanted to sabotage Logan and had us lay out a bunch of traps for him and Sam. More traps for Logan of course."

Nothing like some background information on your opponent to ease the competition. "C'mon, Ah'll take you."

"You want us to lay out some traps, don't ya?" Tabitha was quick.

"$50 says you can." He held up two Grants.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Alright! Maybe this is a little short, but i'm writing the Rematch and realised it would be either too long or too short. i choose short. dont wanna drown you guys in words and more words! =D again, let me know what you think about what i think because i dont know what you think about what i think unless you tell me what you think about what i think about what you think about what i think. and what you think helps me write. haha wheeeeeee mind . R&R**

**Anyway! i made a deal with a friend to promote her youtube channel, or specifically, a particular video of hers. TO ZUTARA & ROMY FANS OUT THERE! this is a mash-up (i gurantee fans of both will get a real kick out of this, it hell kicked me!) of zuko&katara moments with gambit&rogue ones. i cant post a proper link on this so here's it minus the 'www.' 'youtube' '.com'. SUPPORT! thank you so. love you guys&gals so! nono dont take it as emotional blackmail. i really appreciate you, genuinely, seriously speaking, no kidding, for real, and all the other phrases to convince you that i mean it. =)  
**

**here it is: 'www.' 'youtube' '.com' /watch?v=mwi0AAzBYAs**

**- peace! =D**


	14. Rematch

**Living the X-Men Life 14**

"FIFTY BONES?" Ray shrieked at the green the girls flashed in the boys's faces.

"I told you to invite us." she replied, twirling the paper teasingly. "Actually, _thank you_ for not inviting us! Badger is gonna get slammed."

"Oh no he's not!" Bobby said in her face. "_Je vais lui botter les ton cul_!"

Tabby put her ear to her money. "What? What's that Grant? He said he's gonna kick our asses... Grant says you-can't-touch-this!" She and Amara began yapping the song.

The boys fumed, regret plastered all over their faces.

Amara whispered in Tabitha's ear then they both started giggling.

"Ask them!"

"Okay!" Tabby turned to the boys, clearing her throat dramatically. "Me and Amara don't mind handing over the cash to you, guys."

"What're you playin' at?" Roberto frowned.

"We bet our Grants against your Johns that Logan's gonna lose to Remy." She winked at Amara.

"You're on!"

* * *

Remy was grinning to himself. Seeing the competitive look on the boys faces as they passed assured him that his grand plan was in perfect motion. He knew that that $50 would guarantee Amara and Tabby's cooperation and he was counting on their teenage hormones to flaunt the cash to the boys. Then there will be some discrepancies in storyline before they challenge each other, probably putting their own money on the line. Then it would doubly assure that the girls will give better than their best to beat the boys at their own game. Ah, the predictability of youth.

"_Petit_." Remy surprised Jubilee in the Community Room (a.k.a. the Lounge). "You not doing anything on a Tuesday afternoon?"

"Nope." she answered, a little sadly. "Everyone's going somewhere so I'm gonna just, you know, surf the net."

"Ah can arrange that you got somethin' t'do..."

* * *

Logan did not look happy, Remy realised, as he walked to the garage with three girls trailing after him. Well, he himself was not too glad to see four boys on Wolverine's side.

_At the ravines..._

Wolverine and Gambit waited on Bobby's mark.

"Good luck, old man." Gambit tossed a half salute.

"Ah don't need it." Solemn. Foreboding. Remy shut his trap.

"ALRIGHT!" yelled Bobby. The men roared up their bikes. "GET TO THE WEST SIDE OF THE RAVINE. WINNER GETS THE GRANTS – I mean, oops – WINNER GETS TO GLOAT! ON YOUR MARK, SET, GO!!!"

The men rushed forward to the high-setting sun. But Ice Man iced himself up and made a wall of solid white materialise between them. Remy realised he was on his own and took a left turn. No cutting in front of his opponent, no sure direction where to go, no knowing where his opponent was. No certainty, no responsibility, no limits. The way he liked it.

From Remy's rear view mirror, he noticed Ice Man was bridging behind him. Then over him to jump onto the road far ahead. Sharp points of ice grew across several yards when his feet touched the ground. _Merdé_, he's gonna burst my tires. The boy shrugged his shoulders and jumped behind a boulder.

Alternative route, Ah go. Left turn.

Ice Man did not follow him. That left Berserker, Sunspot and Cannonball. He should deduct some grades in class for this...

* * *

Rogue was not the type for catnaps in the afternoon. Maybe curling up on the sofa outside with a book during the bright hours of the day, but never lingering in her own bed. The reason? _He was here_ and she was relishing the warmth that he had cast into the sheets. There was the fading scent of him, his cologne and a hint of cig smoke. A little longer in the darkness wouldn't have hurt him, would it? Yeah, sure, there was the rematch with Logan, which she wanted to be there for, but he refused to let her come with. Why? _Ah don't wanna humiliate the Old Man with a crowd_. It made her laugh, then she became selfish and insisted he stay five more minutes, which dragged into ten, then twenty and finally he smacked her rump lightly and promised her he would be back for more.

She loved those red eyes. She loved that they roamed over her body as his hands did. Kinda creepy, but it was very arousing to see a long, lean shadow moving about with a pair of glowing red orbs. She could tell _when_ he blinked, _when_ he closed in eyes in pleasure and _when_ he was surveying her. That helped her guess what he liked to moan for and what he treated with silence.

In return, he treated her like no gentleman should. What, taking her to her room by the wrist, the rough action stirring anticipation between her legs, throwing her against the door he had shut with force and attacking her mouth with a card in between. Two years ago, her romance-with-Scott self dreamed that the perfect charmer should be slow, careful to her and always cuddly. Screw that, this was the real deal right here.

She had stopped him when a sudden inspiration came to her head. The card was hot, sure, but she wanted to know how his lips played their game. He lowered her, eyes glowing with curiosity as she dug through her underwear drawer. It was black, it was made of silk and it did the job. It took them from the door to the wall to her bed in one heated moment.

He started gently, almost solemnly covering her mouth with his, nimbly caressing her lips through fine silk, exploring the surface. Her hands combed through his hair, his untied, fluffy hazel mop making her acutely aware of his being. She wanted more and demanded more. She had waited _far too damn long_ to be denied the basic right of a hot, conscience-sucking kiss. He tilted his head to the side when she pulled him closer, pulled away for a damned moment then crashed into her mouth.

It was beautiful. Her body became so heavy yet her head never felt lighter. She must have lost the strength in her legs because he carried her up against the door, running his hand along her thighs to wrap around his hips. Heat rocketed from where their bodies met, jolting her legs alive and tightening their hold on him. She felt his hands still in some surprise then they gripped her butt and pulled her away from the door. Her hold was not as tight as he thought when she slipped his grip. He stepped up to the wall, breaking the kiss to lift her higher so her head was above his. She stole a breath in that spilt before his hanky-clad mouth found her again. She clung onto his body, arms around his head.

Then he carried her away. She was not sure where, thoughts muddled between hanging on and his sensual mouth. Then she felt softness beneath her and he released her. Her bed. They were on her bed. She was lying, he was above. A twang of fear sprung her up to sit, the cloth falling aside.

His red orbs disappeared then reappeared slowly. He had blinked. She flushed. _Now, Ah've spoilt the mood._

Surprise. He placed himself on her bed instead, his dark shadow lying on his side against the white sheets, head propped up, and eyes gazing up at her. "Lie down." It was a suggestion though his roughened voice made him sound commanding.

_Ah made his voice like that. _Her fears were relieved. She shifted closer to him and let him capture her again.

Laughter outside her door jolted her back to the present.

Hell. The memories Ah actually like has got t'be the ones t'get interrupted. She noticed her hugging the pillow close, even gripping it. She threw it aside with a "Urgh. Forget it!" and decided to get on with the day, and ventilate the room.

She made it to the Community Room where Jean and Scott were... alone. Cookies and milk on the coffee table. _Bah!_

"Rogue," Jean was talking. "Are you alright?"

"Fah'ne. Why?"

"No, nothing." Jean smiled.

Alright, Ms. Perfect. Ah can't tell what you're playin' at. You and your perfect mask. Whatever! Ah've got other things t'do. "'Ave you seen Kitty?"

"Kitty's with Lance." Scratch Plan A.

"Kurt?"

"Kurt's with Amanda." Scratch Plan B.

Wanda had not answered her phone all day. Scratch that too. Damn. Isn't everyone just so _busy_.

"So how's things with _Gambit_?" Scott asked offhandedly.

You said his name funny. "It's okay." she replied, she hoped for monotony, but her voice jumped up a few pitches.

"Scott, leave her alone!" Jean laughed. _Annoying_. She got up toward Rogue. "C'mon Rogue, you can tell me everything."

What if Ah don't want to? "Okay." No forced monotony in that.

Scott disappeared at his girlfriend's request and Jean settled Rogue down on the couch. Rogue mentally braced herself against the one-year-older-and-a-heck-lot-richer girl.

So... "What d'you wanna know?" she muttered, taking a cookie. Chocolate chip.

"Anything. I just wanna talk with you."

Anything, my foot! "You don't like Remy, huh?" she scowled.

"No, it's just –"

"– It's just, what?"

"I'm trying to say... Maybe you guys are moving too fast."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"You don't know anything about him and we've noticed you're spending so much time with him –"

Bloody hell! "No, _you_ don't know anythin' about him!" Rogue had to cut her. Enough was enough. "You don't have people's life stories replayin' in your head like an IPod Shuffle. You never got t'know him! And the first thin' you do is throw him out the window!"

"We all thought he was – his motives were less than innocent. We're just looking out for you, Rogue!"

"Ah don't expect you t'understand, Jean." Rogue got up to leave.

"What do I not understand?" Jean barked back.

You asked for it. "You don't understand what bein' – what knowin' you're an orphan is like. What, you've got that rich, perfect family that picks you up in that Mafia car every Christmas. You know who you are and where you came from. He and Ah have no parents."

"Look, Mystique was terrible, we all agree on that. But you have us!"

"Ah know that." she mumbled. It was true. She loved them, they loved her.

"And from what we know, Gambit had a home."

"Just 'cause somebody adopts you doesn't make them a parent." she quoted darkly.

"He had a home."

"As long as he was the Guild's lapdog!" Rogue flared. "He was _born_ t'be an orphan. His real parents threw him away 'cause his red eyes scared them shitless, they thought Ah was a demon."

"Rogue..." Jean interrupted, growing nervous.

Oh, shut up and listen for once "Then Jean Luc LeBeau took me in 'cause of my powers, trainin' me and raisin' me t'be the Thieves' greatest weapon. But Ah didn't get any love like Henri did. Or did the other Theives' gave a damn about me –"

BOOM!

She had thrown the cookie in anger. Now there was a gaping, scorched hole in the wall. _Did she – Did she do that?_

Jean was standing up now. She glanced between the damage and the culprit, cautiously reaching for Rogue's shoulder. "R – Rouge. Your eyes..."

_Wha – What just happened?_ The world was spinning. Colours everywhere. Jean's voice was buzzing. Is that Scott? Ah can't tell...

She picked up another cookie. _Charge?_ There was that orange glow. _Uncharge._ It was gone. _Charge._

"Rogue! Quit playing with it!"

_Uncharge_. "Ah got it, Summers. Don't get your knots in a knot." Rogue heard herself say in a voice too deep and masculine to be hers. _What?_

"Snap out of it!" She was picked up and shaken in mid-air.

Rogue groaned and felt the weight of her brain slowly return. The colours started to make sense. The buzzing stopped. _Something's burning_, her nose told her.

Jean lowered her onto the sofa as Rogue nursed her head into the cushions.

"At least, now we know how he feels about himself." she heard Scott mutter.

"It seems that – Maybe recollecting the memories caused the corresponding powers to manifest."

_Yeah, come up with scientific theories in posh English while Ah sprawl on the couch with a headache._ "Ah – Ah think Ah'm gonna be here for awhile."

Jean nodded. "You rest." She set the remaining cookies and milk within Rogue's reach. "I'll get you some water."

Scott added, "D'you want to talk to the Professor about this?"

"Maybe later." she answered groggily.

"I'll get him down here for you." He headed off. _That's...considerably sweet._

Jean returned with a glass that she handed to Rogue. Was it her imagination, or was Jean fidgety, almost insecure-like? "I'm sorry, if what I said threw you overboard."

No kidding meh. But Rogue just drank quietly.

"No, really. I never got it." She shifted her gaze to some corner of the wall. "Maybe I still haven't but I never knew. We all see a cock-sure Southerner who acts like the world is at his fingertips to blow up as and when he likes. You have to admit that was how we all saw him the first time."

The thought of their first encounter made Rogue smile inwardly. The telepath does not know what her first impression of Remy was all about. Isolated, wordless, hot... "Yeah."

"I took it personally, and I'm sorry." Jean put a hand on her arm. Rogue figured it was because her shoulders were exposed by the purple thing she had on; otherwise Jean would have been less intimate. "Scott and I will budge out of this from now on."

That is one good thing, and not a bad start. "Alright." Rogue made full eye-contact, which she hoped could pass for an invisible smile.

Jean seemed happier, back to her secure old self and decided off to find Scott. That is better: all alone, the chandelier ceiling and all the cookies she could want. The milk glass had pink lipstick on it. _Ah'm_ _not gonna touch that._

"I see you've regained yourself enough to start on Kitty's latest batch." The Professor entered with his kindly smile.

_Kitty's latest batch??_ Rogue put the cookie back immediately. _No wonder there are so many left_. "Ah would've gone into another fit if Ah took a bite of that."

"Yes, well! You are definitely back to Rogue again." _He is holding back a laugh_. "And your eyes are your own colour. What happened exactly? Describe to me the experience."

"It was... Images. His memories – Gambit's – on playback. Then Ah think it overwhelmed meh 'cause Ah busted yah wall." sheepishly, she nodded toward the blackened hole.

"It will need some mending..." He trailed off. "Do you think you could summon those images again?" _Now?_ "No, not now." _He is reading my mind. Shoo!_ "Sometime – whenever you feel ready. This could be the first step to controlling your powers, Rogue."

Reality hit her home. _Control. Power. No need for gloves. No distance. Wearing sleeveless! Shorts even! Flip-flops! Hugging, kissing... _"Maybe."

"I'm proud of you, Rogue." He was the second person that day to touch her arm to comfort her, the first to do so meaningfully. "Regardless of the wall."

She let herself smile a little. The Professor had told a joke, so, be polite! He wheeled out of the scene.

Now it was just her, the sofa and Kitty's abominable cookies.

* * *

Gambit let out a manly scream. He had overtaken Wolvie. The finishing line was only half a mile away that he could see that red ribbon stretched by Bobby and Tabby, and Tabby waving. But out of nowhere, Berzerker charged up the teeny-tiny little puddle that was in inch from his bike. There was no mortal way to avoid it. Gambit was zapped.

His brain was dulled, vision blurring up and everything around him was doing the hokey-pokey in slow motion. But he forced himself to keep riding. Wolverine was now next to him. He could not think. The finish line was but a hundred yards away. The finish line. And he was behind now. Eighty yards. He should do it. Sixty. Fifty. Just do it!

Gambit leapt off his ride, dizzily aiming for his opponent's. A jerk later, he seized at Wolverine's jacket to steady himself. The Old Man roared and tried to toss him off without overturning his Harley. _Now Ah've pissed him_. His brain registered two bucks worth of sense. Ten yards.

Six yards. Gambit did it again. He jumped forward. Two yards. Caught the ribbon. ROLL ASIDE! The Harley missed running over his skull by a spare inch. His hair had fluttered at the speed Wolvie went past him.

He won.

He lay there, panting, the last drops of adrenaline trickling through his veins. It ended like sex. Just that he was not riding some girl. Matter of fact, it was a machine. And he was holding onto a man. A _homme_. He was definitely not thinking straight...

The shadows of the kids started gathering all around him. Good, at least sunlight is outta my eyes. Some started snapping their fingers in front of his face. It was blurry and the sounds were muffled pops in his ears. But he managed to sift out some conversation.

"Holy muffins! He jumped!" "Is he okay?" "Crazy. Really crazy, the way I like 'em!" "Check out his eyeballs! They're goin' crazy in the sockets!" "Ray, I think you've done it this time..." "Think he needs CPR?" "I'll do it!" Tabby volunteered.

As much as he would have liked a congratulatory kiss, the news of it would reach _Chéri_'s ears and he would not get another in her room, ever again. "Hey." he wheezed, pushing himself upright to a stabilising world.

Ray threw up his hands in relief. "GOD! THANK GOD YOU'RE NOT DEAD, MAN!"

Yeah, _merci mon Dieu_. "No, but your grades... Can't be sure." he grinned. Gambit had his brains back.

Suddenly, silence. Wolverine had gotten off the Harley and was marching toward him. The kids parted to make a neat dirt aisle.

_He would not murder me in front of the kids, non?_ Gambit lost the grin and was about to pick himself up –

– But Logan had stretched out an Ah'll-help-your-lousy-Cajun-swamp-butt-up hand. "You weren't bad."

Remy took it firmly as Logan hauled him up. "Not bad?"

"For someone who can't ride." Logan grinned.

Alright. Insult my skills because you lost. Fine. "Fair enough."

Welcome to the X-Men.

* * *

"Ninety. Hundred. Hundred and ten." Bobby hesitated to put their last green note in Tabitha's expecting hand.

She pointed at her open palm teasingly.

"Hundred and twenty bucks."

She clutched the cash gleefully and divided it between her, Amara and Jubilee. "Thanks guys! Nice doin' business with yah!"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: ah well, sorry for the slowwww updates. i cant help it with Chinese New Year coming, everyone wants my mom's baking so i've upgraded my family status from daughter to cheap labour. unless i grow another pair of hands and spread flour all over my computer to write, yeah i'm gonna tortoise my way until late Feb. my thoughts always drift back to fanfic though and i end up rolling cubes instead of round shapes. haha wheeee!  
so! as the usual request of most fanfic writers, REVIEW. no pressure though**

**- peace!**


	15. REVENGE I

**chapter remade AGAIN because i think scott needed some attitude adjustment check. plus, it would fit better in the next part if he were not so willing to get onto remy's badder side.**

**chapter remade. due to nightmares.**

**Hey Hey Hey! i found a little time to squeeze in this part-chapter between cookie-making, work, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and sleep. its the shortest update ever but i hope you enjoy the idea! btw Dholefire, i managed to slot in the girls' doing to Logan. and ALLREMS, i tried a teeny tiny rogue-rival-tabby here however it aint as juicy as it should/could be, will find a way to have a real incident sooner or later!**

**and for anyone else who has an idea or two or three that can be done, let me know and i'll work on your requests! =D i cant promise instant coffee but i can find the powder first.**

**

* * *

**

Living the X-Men Life 15

The dinner table was uproar in chatter with the questions of those interested and the kids telling of the story. Needless to say, Logan added a grunt or two into each story. Remy forced himself to humbly accept praises.

"Wait, wait!" Kitty cried, all flustered. "There's so many people talking! I still don't get it!"

Tabitha silenced Bobby and took the story into her hands. "You guys should have _seen _Remy ride!" Sitting next to Remy, she held his arm for emphasis. Rogue, on his other side, sent a slow glare her way. "Logan had Ray zap him, so he couldn't drive right. But he jumped on Logan bike as soon as they were side by side."

"That's one way to hitch a ride." laughed Scott.

"Yeah, then when they were close to the finishing line, he jumped for it. And won!"

"I'm guessing the competition wasn't a fair fight if Logan had the boys on his side." Jean hinted at Remy.

"Hey, we did our number on Logan too!" She took a swig of coke. "See, first Amara kept fillin' up the ravine with all that lava so Badger had to drive on this narrow road where Jubbs was waitin'. She was supposed to just scare him off the road so he'll have to make a detour but apparently she aimed wrong and shocked his system instead. So his engine couldn't do over 120. Then near the end of Bobby's ice wall I was waitin'. I knew Rems and Badger would be meetin' here so I chose that spot. When I finally heard some noise, both of 'em were coming around at the same time. Rems was ahead but then Ray came outta _nowhere_, zapped him and he started slowing. So I rushed it and went Boom Boom at Ray then at Logan. The explosions blinded him and he slowed and they ended up side by side for Rems to jump him! Awesome, huh?"

"Really interesting." replied Scott.

Tabby giggled, "Rem Rem's so funny!"

Remy knew the glare was toward the _other girl_ but the hair at the back of his neck began to stand under Rogue's eyes. "Professor." he called across the table.

"Yes, Remy?"

"Ah was wonderin' for this little victory if Ah could celebrate it in the club tomorrow nah'te."

The Professor's eye had a knowing spark in it. "Who do you have in mind to bring?"

"If it's alright wit' everyone," _Pause for thoughtful effect._ "Rogue."

Remy expected Logan, Tabitha or some other person other than Jean to protest immediately. "Professor, tomorrow all us girls are having our night out."

He blinked slowly, insulted. "_Pardonnez-moi_ (Excuse me), didn't you hear me ask first?"

"You're right." Jean nodded away to her side. "Besides, I feel safer if you were with Rogue, especially if you guys are gonna be hanging out 'till three in the morning." she stated flatly.

His eyes involuntarily boggled in their sockets. Rogue gasped softly. They were gonna get it now...

Kurt went "WHAT?"

The Professor arched an eyebrow while Logan lowered his glass menacingly. "_Three_ in the morning?" he growled.

Remy had a line of excuses on the tip of his tongue but Jean beat him with hard facts. "That's what time he walked her back to her room last night..." she revealed more. Scott, next to her, quirked a stare behind his sunglasses.

"Walked her to her room _at night_?" Logan snarled.

Remy's excuses were not gonna work now and there was no way Rogue could know how to help. He was cornered. "Ah stayed up – was threatened t'be murdered in my sleep. She came down for milk and cookies."

The Professor cleared his throat to silence the murmurs and giggles. "Remy, there are certain rules in the Institute for a reason. I won't go into details, but this is actionable."

_What, is he gonna spank me for breaking house rules?_ "Yes, Professor."

The Professor glanced between Ororo and Logan, the trio in some telepathic conversation. "It's ridiculous to punish a fellow adult, however for your memory's sake, after your French lessons, you'll be assistant to Logan's training sessions for a week. Understood?"

"A week?" Remy repeated. _What the hell is this?_

"Don't worry, Remy." Jean continued. "Maybe now you can get to know the kids better instead of paying them to do your bidding. Like today's bike race."

Remy brought his dinner knife to his temple while Logan kept a straightened face, prodding his food. The Professor shook his head ever so slightly. "Make that two weeks." He looked very grave about it.

"Two – shit." he shook his head. Remy glanced at Rogue, quirked a brow and returned his eyes to his plate like a scolded child. _At least, he did not ban Rogue and Ah from seeing each other..._

"And you're not to bring Rogue anywhere." added Ororo.

Remy clamped his jaw shut, forcing a "_D'ac_ (Got it)." from the side of his mouth.

Jean was not finished yet. "Can he still visit Rogue's room?"

Remy raised his head, imagining shooting charged objects in her direction. _Bloody bitch._ "Why?" he mouthed silently to her.

"Oops." She covered her smirking mouth with a hand. Scott scratched behind his ear.

"Let's make that a month." The Professor was openly disappointed now.

"Don't let me catch yer' in her room." Logan snarled now. Then to Rogue, "There's extra trainin' fer' you. Don't think yer' gonna get away with this either."

Tabitha hissed in playful sympathy while the other kids went "Ooh... Busted, big time!"

Almost synchronised, Remy and Rogue groaned, displeasured. This meant one thing... REVENGE.

Welcome to the X-Men.

* * *

**Who else agrees with Remy?**

**This chapter was inspired by Fresh Prince of Bel-Air's episode "KNOWLEDGE IS POWER". For those of you who know what im talking about, good for you! you can compare and contrast with this fanfic and expect people to make jackasses of themselves. For those who have no idea in rainbowland what im talking about, dont worry! you'll still find jackasses at the end of it. =D**

**Meanwhile, review! i'l be typing with flour-y hands..**

added: **anyone find this Jean here OOC? i suppose she is. no, SHE IS OOC HERE. maybe she wasnt before but now she is! omg shoot theres no way i can change unless i chop off the entire idea and i dont wanna do that. firstly because i have no other idea nagging at me, second because i have already posted this, third is i like this idea. ALOT. but i apologise, so so so so so sorry if this peeves off anybody. dont be pissed! it'l be one more chapter before jean goes back to her more lovable self. please dont condemn this fanfic. flame reviews, sure thing, feel free to scold me if you think i deserve a kick in the rear.**

**- peace! =D**


	16. REVENGE II

**hey guys! Wow so Chinese New Year and my interviews are over and done and gone and im back! =D thank you helenxxx, lady555 & thedarkscareslittlekids for your encouragement!**

**i was writing the rest of the tale and realised i might take awhile to get back in the zone. but i want to share the exerpt that im confident of. i hate to keep u guys waiting! so enjoy and review!**

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**Living the X-Men Life 16**

Remy LeBeau lay under his covers, tossing and turning for the lack of Rogue-action. Every thought he tried to direct to sleep made a U-turn back to her. The trees rustling outside reminded him of how they had to adjust their crumpled clothes after a rough make-out. The soft whispers of breeze reminded him of her murmuring in his ear. The sounds of nature sounded like animal noises to him. If this goes on, he may have to start jerking himself. Or maybe he could sneak out of this place and find a bar somewhere...

"Mmmm..." A soft, female moan stirred a jolt of reaction through him.

_Damn my imagination! _He threw the covers off his heated body.

"Ahn-nn!" A louder male hiss followed. "You know, I'm not wearing underwear tonight."

_That wasn't me._ _Ah would never say that. No decent man would say that before sex. _Remy sat up in his bed, listening carefully. It sounded like it came from beyond the wall.

"Oooh!" That female voice again. "Oooh... Mmmm..."

"Uhn!" The male voice answered. "You asked for it."

"Give it to me."

The noises that ensued made Remy scrunch up his face, half-aroused, half-disturbed. It could not be coming from next door. Next door meant Summers' room. There was no way in hell the boy was no virgin. Already Remy suspected he was a eunuch from how immune he was to women, so what the chances are of hot, premarital sex happening?

"Ah! Oh, Scott!" _Holy... IT IS SUMMERS._ "Scott, Scott, Scott, Scott! I'm so close..."

"Hold on..." _Yeah, definitely Summers. Well, at least he was finally using the phrase right. _"Jean!" he ground out.

"Shhh...!" The hiss came out in pleasure rather than rebuke.

Remy grinned. _Perfect._ He could feel the revenge was within his reach – a card up his sleeve. With a satisfied chuckle, he put an easy mind to sleep.

The next day, he decided to jump into life early to catch the _lover-birds_ alone. As expected, there they were, in the Community Room, quietly chatting. _Cute_...

"_Bonjour_." he drawled, sitting himself in the single couch.

The two exchanged confused glances and Remy guessed that they figured he should be pissed with them, not eager to start a conversation! "Good morning." Scott replied, slightly uneasy.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked casually. Then he gestured to their faces. "Eyebags."

"Yeah." Jean smiled like a plastic doll. "We –"

"Ah didn't either." Remy cut her off. "'Cause of all t'at noise."

"Noise?" asked Scott. _Not a bad liar, although repeating the question is cliché._

"Yeah, you didn't hear it?"

"No." Scott glanced at Jean. "We didn't hear anything last night."

Remy pretended to fist his chin in thought. "Ah thought you would 'ave heard it, comin' from _your room_..."

Jean turned five shades redder and Scott swallowed loud enough for him to hear the _gulp_. He grinned triumphantly. _Revenge. Beautiful, sweet, revenge_.

Finally, after a long pause that was spent watching the couple fidget uncomfortably, Jean spoke very, very softly. "What are you gonna do?"

He shrugged. "Write a book about it. Ah swear Scott, you're part jackhammer."

Scott went tomato red. "What d'you want from us?"

"Well," Remy stood up and paced. "Thanks t'you, Rogue and Ah' are in trouble for the next month. All Ah' want is that you make this month less troublesome. It's that simple." He smiled reassuringly: his favourite poker face.

"Okay..." Scott accepted the deal quickly and he and Jean were hurrying out of Remy's sight –

"Oh, Jean. Scott." he drawled.

"Yes?" They turned, anxiety written all over their faces.

Remy dropped himself on the three-seater, sprawling his length across it. "Carry me..."

Their faces went from red to black.


	17. REVENGE III

**Living the X-Men Life 17**

Rogue frowned. Breakfast was weird.

First, Scott had made her eggs, toast, bacon with sautéed mushrooms on the side. Jean made her coffee, not just coffee but a mocha, complete with chocolate sauce at the base.

Second, Remy never moved his butt to get anything. Instead Scott and Jean were hurrying around at his beck and call.

Third was the most disturbing. Remy began to call himself by his own name. Cute, she supposed. Egoistic, definitely. But apparently Scott and Jean were open with it.

"Remy," she seized him when they were out of the kitchen, alone. "What. The. Hell. Is going on?"

He chuckled, putting an arm around her shoulder and walking them. "You see, _Chéri_, later we'll both be sufferin' wit' Logan. Ah just thought we be relaxed for now."

"Ah get the 'relaxed'." she said, shrugging off the arm. "They were callin' you 'Your Highness' the whole time."

"Last night, Ah caught 'em..." He winked. "T'gether..."

Her eyes widened. "Blackmail." she smiled. "You bastard."

"What?" he drawled. "Tell me you don't like t'e idea."

She glanced twice then slid her hand around his waist, pulling it back teasingly. "Ah love it."

His grin was wider. "You do that and maybe one day someone'll catch _us_."

Ha! She thought, involuntarily grinning for the same reason he was, though hers felt lopsided, knowing _that sorta thing_ may never be done in this lifetime. "Like that'll happen!" she threw back, breaking away and heading off to the left of the fork in the corridor toward the Danger Room for her extra session with Logan. Glancing back, she noticed he had stopped, his head tilted slightly.

After Logan's one-on-one spar (during which the man made no reference to her reason for the extra session except a "Don't do it again.") and her shower, her cellphone had a text message from an unknown number. How whoever it was had gotten hold of her number was beyond her.

"Cheri lunch in bed my room jean n scott servin bring yr laundry cya" it said.

Rogue could not resist the naughty smile that tugged at her lips. She had not slept very well the night before and after reading the invitation, was grateful for the belated fix. Slipping into her long sleeved turtleneck and cotton yoga pants, eager thoughts ran through her mind. She realised it had become a routine for four days now. The first was on their date, which he had initiated. The next three times were her idea. She had even made an effort to approach him for it. She depended on it, needed it like a drug_. An addiction - that's a scary thought._ She scoffed at herself. But it was true; she craved his touch, which boiled down to her craving the ability to touch again.

She paused midway in tying the strings on her pants. Should she be doing this? It was the last morally right thing on earth... but it was so damn _good_. A distant memory trickled into her head, of Destiny, long ago, talking to her about the birds and the bees. Rogue was embarrassed to discuss the topic so she had scoffed and rolled her eyes throughout the whole conversation, ending up reflecting on birds and bees at bedtime. Now as she tightened the strings, she wondered if it would do her good if she had listened a little more.

_Mystique_.

That thought had it coming. Unavoidable. Rogue shut her eyes tight, clenching her teeth against the recollection, the images that flashed through her vision at the surfacing of that name. She tied up the strings furiously and got her fingers tangled up in the futile process until suddenly, all emotion dissipated into thin air. A familiar coldness washed her through. It was one particular image, one that was her own that involved a piece of landscape, a quiet conversation, a confession and her freedom. That was the source of the coldness – her freedom. She could live a life that was her own, not some twisted, power-hungry destiny. She was free!

Why then, was her heart throbbing with cold blood? Satisfaction made you all warm and fuzzy inside, like when Remy kisses her. This satisfaction tasted so bitter.

She dismissed that poisonous rubbish from her brain. Remy was waiting. Slow walking down the girls' corridor with the quietness she was used to mustering, she hoped to God that the boys' side was equally empty. The last thing she needed right now was to be – OH DAMN, Scott Summers was coming her way...! Wait. There was nothing to worry about if Remy had his thumb on him.

"Hey Rogue." Scott sounded like he was reciting. "Wanna walk?"

She stamped down her smile, not wanting to betray her amusement. "Remy made you say that, didn't he?"

Scott's lip twitched but he kept walking.

He even opened the door to the room, where Remy was lying under the covers, bare-chested so her traitorous eyes were drawn straight to him, propped up by half a dozen pillows, a beer can in hand. He had a smug look directed to the person behind her as she entered.

"What happened t'you?" she asked.

"Can't move." he replied, tossing the can at Scott, who caught it and disposed it obstinately. "Remy wants you t'take Rogue's laundry if you please, Summers."

He glared at Remy, snatching her bundle of clothes. "Yes."

Remy stared back. "Yes, _what_?"

Scott may have rolled his eyes behind them sunglasses. "Yes, _your Highness_."

The 'prince' smiled innocently and waved him away. "_Bon_. You're dismissed."

Scott slammed the door as he left, making Rogue jump a little. She felt Remy's encouraging hand on her to join him.

She readily climbed in beside him. Looking over his body, she asked, "What number did Logan do on you?"

"Try fixin' puzzles wit' the pieces half a mile apart, up in a tree and lyin' on the ground waitin' t'catch your foot." he muttered. "Machine parts the kids smashed up. Hungry?"

She nodded although she really was not, and watched him reach for a small bell that was sitting on his bedside table and handing it to her. She stared at it, looked at him questioningly then rang it. The sharp peals brought forth an apron-clad, head stuffed in a hairnet, Jean Grey, with a tray and a face blacker than death.

"Yes, _your Highness_?" she snapped.

"His Highness would like lunch served now, please." He had his smuggest grin on; one Rogue would call his victory smile.

"Fine, I'll get it." She turned to go.

"Eh..." Remy called her back in. "Have you done His Highness's laundry?"

Jean turned back around. "Yes, your Highness."

He shook his head mockingly. "You forgot his Highness's uniform, his boots and..." He wiggled under the blanket then straightened out his legs under the sheets, extracting a pair of – _HOLY BALLS!_ Rogue froze beside him, staring at the cloth hanging on his finger. "And his draws."

Although she wanted nothing more than to stare at his boxers and think about whether he was wearing _anything _under the covers (which led to her thinking about what needed to be covered), she could not pass on seeing Jean's reaction.

Jean's eyes were wider, her usually perfect face giving into contortion. "I am not... washing your drawers." Her usually perfect voice actually stumbled.

"Yes you are." Remy kept his underwear in the air. "From now on, you'll say the word _draws_."

Jean stiffly rolled her eyes. "This's getting really annoying, Remy."

Remy shrugged his shoulders. "Have it your way... STORM! PROFESSOR! LOGAN!"

"Alright! Alright!" Jean freaked out and telekinetically took his _draws_, putting it on the tray with a tight face.

Rogue's jaw dropped slightly before realising Remy was speaking again. "His Highness wants t'discuss the condition of his royal boots..." He picked up his boots that were neatly placed on the floor and pulled a toothbrush out from inside one of them. "You'll clean 'em with _your_ toothbrush."

Jean clenched her jaw from screaming her head off that he had put her toothbrush in his God-knows-how-long-it's-been-unwashed boot. "D'you want me to floss them too?" she retorted.

Remy swallowed Jean's words calmly. "Yeah, get the brown clumps outta between the ridges..." At Jean's horrified look, he added with a look as innocent as a lamb's, "Somethin' wrong, Jean?"

She snatched his boots and her toothbrush and strutted out of the room, too furious for words.

"You suck." Rogue stayed a distance from him, although being on the same bed made her very aware of his drawer-less body. "Are you really gonna trip on 'em?"

"No." His answer was immediate and solid certain.

She was partly confused. Jean showed no mercy when she spilled, so why should he? "Honestly?"

"Honestly." Despite the lazy Southern grin on his face, his eyes were truthfully positive.

Rogue found herself smiling for a mixture of reasons. "Please tell meh' you're wearin' somethin'."

For answer, he threw down the blanket. _Holy damn!_ Rogue yelped and spun away. _Oh God, but Ah wanna look it so badly... _"Remy! For god's sake...!"

"Ah got pants on, _Chéri_. What d'you think Ah am?" he teased.

Slowly, she turned, expecting the worst. But all she spotted between her fingers were a pair of black straight-cuts. She sighed, not sure whether it was in relief or disappointment. "How long yah' gonna keep this up?"

"A month? Ah could get used to t'e pamperin'." He laced an arm around her waist.

She shuffled onto the same pillows. At that closeness, she could see the fine, darker marks lining his chest, a couple more on his right shoulder blade and a small slit on his lower neck. _Damn._ She did not remember him getting that bad a hit when he was an Acolyte, whatever hits the X-Men were allowed to give him. But the faint scars had little impact on his gorgeous body. She knew it was gorgeous long ago, but it was the effect of bare skin that made her brain swim. She sat there, forgetting decency and reached to touch him.

Warm. The first thought that made goosebumps dot her covered skin. She pressed her gloved palm flat on his chest. Hard. She slid her hand lower, slowly over the ridges of muscle, savouring the reaction that stirred in her core. Her eyes followed her hand to stop at the rim of his pants where a distinct bulge was a mere inch away.

A hot, nervous lump formed in her throat. Biology classes started replaying in her head with the girls squealing and giggling at the diagrams while the boys hooted and laughed out loud. "That wasn't there before." she blurted, feeling retarded for that loose remark.

He did not seem to find it spastic though. "Care t'be introduced?" he replied and she heard his grin rather than saw it.

"We've met before." she countered, still looking at the thing.

"He was a little rude last time." Remy took her hand gently. She could have pulled it back, easily, but her hand remained pliant instead. Her heart drummed apprehensively as he finished his sentence, "He just wants you t'get t'know 'im. Never know, one day, we might _acquaint_."

Acquaint. How did he distort the meaning of such a dull word into something that made her sizzle so badly? As he guided her hand lower, lower, nearer, she understood what 'acquaint' really meant.

It felt like an eternity, but it was not long before her hypersensitive fingers encountered heat. How hot it was both alarmed her and titillated her. She gasped. Her romance novels and overhearing boys' talks have educated her that it would be hard. And there was the time when she sat over it. Still, she did not truly realise how hard it was until he pressed her palm against it. She was aware of the shape, the size, the temperature. She felt herself blushing feverishly. _Damn, is it huge or what?_

The pressure of his hand on hers lightened so it rested instead of holding her captive to this sadistic act. She could sense his eyes on her but she refused to look up, avoiding his intense gaze. Her stare at his erection only intensified. Experimentally, she tightened her hold into a grip.

He hissed. A tangible thrill delighted her senses into eagerness. She suddenly wanted to see him squirm under _her touch_. It would be a total irony that with all her restrictions, she could arouse a man.

She moved her hand. The arm he had around her gripped her closer, allowing her to sense the growing tension in him. Curiosity and the imagination that came with it succeeded in drawing her eyes to his face. His eyes were shut, his expression shifting between levels of pleasure, his groans escaping through gritted teeth. She shivered in sweet sympathy.

The creak of the doorknob stunned some sense into both of them like a draught. They pulled away, Remy softly but clearly swearing in French.

"Lunch, your highness." Jean muttered, two bed trays and a jug of pale yellow floating toward them. She made a brief glare at Rogue. "Enjoy." she finished coldly and set the food down on their laps. Again, she left without a word.

Rogue was about to put her tray away when a strange rumbling noise resounded beside her. A little disappointed, she asked, "Hungry?"

"Very." he answered swiftly. Too swiftly.

"Oh." She picked up her spoon and turned to her food.

Remy quirked his lips when she did that. It was not that he wanted to give up a rubdown for food, but he was starving! Reaching behind her back that was somewhat bent forward as she ate, he pulled at her bra and released it with a _snap!_ As expected, she sat right up with a yelp.

He grinned at her glare, noticing the slight wobble of her dark lips as she pinned down a smile, and knew they would be continuing the game afterwards.

"So what's in there?" She cocked her head at the jug.

He took it off the bedside table to pour the liquid into her glass. "_Champange _(Champagne)." he replied grandly.

Her eyes widened as he poured himself a glass. "From where?"

"Not my problem t'get it." He raised his and the crystal sang as they toasted to revenge.

After downing a glass or two or three, Remy remembered the slip he forgot to pass to Jean.

"What?" She arrived half a minute after he rang the bell. "Your highness?" she covered quickly when he opened his mouth to shout.

"This's for you and Summers." He passed a slip of folded paper over. "A list o'things t'do t'night at dinner."

"Like what?" she asked, scandalised, opening the note and scanning the contents.

"_Sortez_ (Go out)." He shooed her out before she could react to what he wrote.

Rogue stared at him quizzically.

"You'll find out t'night." he grinned at the scene that unfolded in his head.

* * *

Remy managed to find Summers and Jean lingering outside the dining hall, hesitant to enter. They even started at his appearance.

"You remember the list o'things you gotta do t'night?" he grinned.

"Yes." Scott answered firmly. Jean pressed her lips together.

"So what d'you do when someone calls 'Jean'?" he tested Summers.

Scott cleared his throat. "I bark like a dog."

Remy chuckled. "When someone calls 'Scott'?" he asked Jean.

Jean glowered at him from the corner of her eye. "I meow."

He gave them a small thumb up and strolled into the dining hall, taking his seat next to suspicious Rogue and waiting patiently for the performance to begin.

Dinner came and everyone was involved in chatter.

"The kids ain't too bad, Chuck." Remy overheard Logan saying. "Just wishin' they'd focus more."

"Happens t'everyone." Remy interrupted before the Professor could reply. He shifted his eyes toward Scott. "Right, Jean?"

He watched Scott stiffen his back before bowing his head and giving a muffled "_Wuff_."

The professor paused with a fork in midair, as did everyone else. "Did you say something, Scott?"

"No, Professor." The boy quickly covered up and returned to eating.

Remy let his eyes close to relish the satisfaction.

"You were saying, Remy?" the Professor asked nonchalantly.

"Ah' was just askin' Jean –"

"_Wuff_."

"Something wrong, Scott?" Ororo spoke.

"_Mew_." Everyone turned to the source of the high-pitched noise.

"Jean?" Ororo refocused her attention.

"_Wuff._"

"What's goin' on with Scott?" Bobby scratched his head.

"_Mew_!"

"More like Jean's gone kitty..." Tabitha laughed.

"Hey!" Kitty shot back.

"_Wuff_!" went Scott.

"Scott –" Logan pulled a face of irritation.

Jean hesitated at that but Remy eyed her vigilantly. "_Mew_."

"Knock it off!" Logan barked and the table went silent.

Everyone returned to their eating. But in a matter of moments, the table was noisy again.

Rogue took the opportunity to nudge Remy and exchange glances. She vaguely shook her head. "It's cruel and unusual." she whispered.

"It's fun." he replied.

Just then, Jean meowed again.

"Is there... What's going on here?" The Professor seemed to understand a pattern and aimed his question unwaveringly at Jean, without mentioning her name.

Remy blinked.

"Nothing, Professor..." Jean's voice trailed away. Jean's face began to contort, blinking desperately until a hiccoughing sound escaped her. "I'm just not hungry." She laid away her fork and knife, pushed her chair back and quietly left the table. Her mechanical-like movements stirred a tiny pang in Remy, too tiny to mean anything but not small enough to be missed.

Remy glanced at Rogue, whose face reflected some remorse before masking herself and finishing her meal.

The other kids had shrugged it off, impassive to her mood swings and resumed chit-chatting. Remy noticed the elder adults were glancing at Scott, who had become uneasy. As Remy expected, he excused himself, but not before staring hard at Remy. The Cajun chuckled blandly. Urgh, he had made a girl cry.

"We screwed 'em pretty bad, huh?" Rogue stated more than asked.

"Think it's time t'make up."

"Make up?" she replied crossly. "They started it!"

Remy made a small gesture of rolling his head to look at her. "Rogue..."

"Fine, you're right. It's not funny anymore."

After dinner, they found (or heard) the couple in Scott's bedroom, Jean sniffing pretty loudly. Politely, they entered without knocking.

"We're not playing anymore, Remy." Scott said quietly from his bed, the shoulder region of his shirt dampened, arms around Jean.

"Honestly," Remy began, an arm around Rogue. "We didn't know you were gonna break."

Rogue added, "You walk around like nothing bothers you. Like you're always in control. Guess we took it a lil' too far."

Remy nudged her in the ribs.

"It was your idea!" she hissed back.

"We wanna say: Sorry."

Jean scoffed, although with the tear-choked voice it sounded like a phlegm-cough. "Yeah, _now_." She stopped to clear her throat. "After seeing me cry, right? A moment ago you were ready to tell on us."

Remy smiled and Rogue's eyes had a glint. "We were never gonna trip on you." he assured.

Scott sat stunned. "Liars. Both of you."

"D'you mean that?" asked Jean, getting onto her feet.

Almost synchronised, the Southerners nodded.

Without warning or pre-emptive thought, Rogue found herself being knocked back and squeezed by a sobbing Jean Grey, the girl who had it all. _Oh-kay_. She stood there, frozen, awkwardly returning the, uh, girl-hug.

Remy's immediate response to the outburst was to stare down at the boyfriend, gesturing an anti-hug idea. "Don't even think about it."

Scott made a face before removing his sunglasses and polishing it with closed eyes.

Jean's face was buried into Rogue so only she could filter the muffled ranting. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I – I don't know what came over me. I felt so – so angry and jealous. Of what, I don't know but I just wanted to see someone punished. Oh God, everything's a mess. Everything's happening so fast..."

The only thought that came to Rogue's mind was Scott _happening fast_, which was not very nice. "Yeah?"

"I'm not really jealous." she sniffed. "I'm just, I don't know. I'm not angry either! Not at you or – or Gambit. It's just..." She paused in her speech to cry harder. "Ithink'mpregnant."

Rogue was stupid-ified. _Why tell meh'? What d'you want meh' t'do?_ "What?!" she jerked away violently. "How'd you know?"

"Tested, and I can't stop throwing up in the mornings."

Remy's eyes widened upon hearing those words clearly pronounced. "Scott," he turned stiffly. "Never heard o'rubber?"

"Shut up."

He looked back at Jean. "What're you gonna do?"

"I don't know." She rubbed her eyes and Rogue passed her a tissue plus the tissue box. "Thanks."

"Maybe..." Rogue resisted the urge to dab away the snot on her shoulder. "Maybe you should wait. You know, see if it's for real."

"You're right." Jean sniffed again.

"The problem's gonna be telling the Professor, Ororo..." Scott mused. "And Logan's gonna be damn mad."

"Somebody in this house gotta know how t'deliver it." Remy shrugged his shoulders when the girls stared at him. "No hospital's gonna help you."

Scott shook his head. "Jean." He walked up to her and rotated her around to face him. Before Remy could shield Rogue's eyes, they were locked in a _passionné_ kiss that the other party felt compelled to slink out of the bedroom in case more babies were going to be made.

Remy coughed. "If you two can wait ten minutes, Ah'll buy you a box o' Extra Safes."

They broke apart, Jean much happier and Scott less sober. She adjusted his collar then seemed to stare into his eyes intensely.

Scott nodded in understanding. "As our last act of servitude," he addressed Rogue and Remy, "We _did_ finish your laundry."

Rogue shook her head while Remy laughed. "Sorry 'bout makin' you do that."

"It's alright." Jean smiled. "What's done is done."

"It's in the kitchen downstairs."

When they got there, hearts lightened and slightly disturbed, the basket of laundry was sitting in a nice corner, perfectly clean and sound. Then Rogue picked up the prominently placed dark pink piece with a beautiful, crisp shape of the electric iron.

Remy groaned. "Those were my lucky draws..."

"Ah'm guessin' this isn't ova yet."

"Not by six months." He joked then noticed what was laid beneath his boxers. "Black lace, Chéri?"

She flushed and jumped at him. "Shuddup! Give it!"

"Now, matchin' panties gotta be in here..." He started rummaging the layers of clothes for the missing piece of two.

"Git, yah' lousy perv!" She whacked his face with his own drawers, swatting him away from the basket.

"Mine." He ran out with her bra, Rogue chasing after him and brandishing his draws.

* * *

**Revenge has been satisfied. and jean's OOCness is due to hormonal imbalance during pregnancy (inspired by Lupa Dracolis's idea about PMS). =D ooh la la!**

**haha do you think this works? let me know! and thank you for reading and keeping to this story despite the irregular and spastically lengthly updates! very very much appreciated.**

**- peace!**


	18. A Homecoming

**Living the X-Men Life 18**

Remy zigzagged out of the kitchen through the corridors along the first floor with Rogue's enraged yelling not far behind. As he passed the front door, the doorbell rang. He halted for a moment, considering the bra in his hand and the person waiting outside. He was alone and nobody seemed to be coming along. So he took the initiative to answer the door.

"Eugh." he muttered under his breath.

Standing on the lighted porch was a dinosaur.

That was the first impression Remy had from the sight of the bony spikes and plates protruding from the body standing hunched before him. But it was a young man. From the colour of his hands and face, was an African American lad of no more than nineteen. Who was he?

Dino-man furrowed his thick brows for a moment, staring hard at Remy's face, as if trying to remember something. He must have remembered that something because he yelled a vicious "YOU!" and fired thick, mean-looking spikes at Remy before the taller man could respond. Remy was thrown back and grunted as he encountered the floor, the spikes ruthlessly pinning him onto the carpet.

"What the hell!" he yelled, straining his neck to look up at Dino.

"Stay down, Acolyte!" Dino snarled back.

Soft sounds of running feet came and stopped. "Evan!" cried Ororo's voice joyfully.

_Evan?_ Remy pondered the name. He had heard it somewhere sometime ago. _Evan Daniels. Codename: Spyke._ Some automatic gear in his mind churned out the information, totally contrasting to his feeling of surprise and chagrin upon being floored. Yet his thoughts shifted to the boy's monstrous appearance. Shit. What happened to him?

"Aunty O! Look out!!!" Remy's flat world vision allowed him to glimpse at Dino running toward Ororo and defensively putting her behind him.

There was a silence which Ororo broke with a light-hearted laugh. "Evan, I'd like you to meet Remy LeBeau, you know him as Gambit, who has joined the X-Men."

There was another silence that Evan broke with a snort. "Is this some kinda' sick joke?"

Remy was about to reply him with something smart when another Southern voice interrupted him with her fury.

"Remy!!! Give back my bra – !" He heard her choke back her words as she stopped running.

"Rogue?" Evan said in a nostalgic, friendly tone.

"Evan?" Rogue sounded astonished.

"Bra?" Ororo asked, scandalised.

Remy turned his head toward the black lace he still held. "Greatest conversation ever." he returned dryly.

With his ear on the carpet, he could pick up the vibrations as more feet were rushing to the scene. Everyone had assembled in the front room and everyone was interested in Spyke and his return. Nobody paid much attention to the man with bone sticks nailing him to the floor.

"What's the commotion – EVAN!" Kitty gleefully ran to Spyke.

"Dude!" Kurt initiated a high-five and knuckle punch.

"What's goin' on." Evan returned with a sort of reigned in energy. Remy was inclined to think he was a head more mature than the rest.

"Wazzup!" Bobby made a hand sign that meant nothing to Remy. All the other kids surrounded Evan with greetings and re-acceptance.

"Hey." Evan smiled.

"Welcome back, Porcupine." Logan put a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Logan."

"So I take it as you're staying, Evan?" The Professor offered.

"For good, Prof."

Remy sighed. Family moment and all, it was very touching. He kept his needs to himself.

"Prof, could I have a moment with you and Aunty O alone?"

"Sure." The Professor wheeled over to Remy, who grinned in relief. "But first, would you like to help your victim?"

"Ah' donno, Chuck." Logan's voice had a nasty edge to it. "He might make a good boot rug."

With all the verbal comebacks in the world, Remy just flattened his grin.

The Professor shook his head and Evan and Logan plucked the spikes out. Evan stuck out a hand and helped Remy to his feet, which Remy transformed the grip into a brief handshake. Evan nodded in mute acceptance, his face unreadable though his eyes were intent with a metallic sheen. The man had a weight on his mind.

As he left with the Professor and Ororo, Remy started picking at his torn clothes. Holes outlined the edges of his shirt and pants. It was bare luck that Spyke missed his important place between his legs.

"Give me that, bub." growled Logan, his thick fingers leaving no doubt what he was talking about.

Remy handed the bra over as the kids started their murmuring and grinning. Logan then went over to Rogue, who mutely surrendered the boxers and received her underwear with downcast eyes. Remy caught his boxers as Logan tossed them at his face.

"Wear only what you need to." Logan's monotonous line had a warning tune to it.

The other kids burst into laughter, except Kitty and Kurt, who looked on inquisitively.

* * *

It was great to have a room to herself.

Yet she did not mind when she found that Remy had slipped into it while she was showering, when he had caught her with her hair in a towel. Disappointment was written on his face when he muttered he wanted to catch her butt-naked, or at least changing her clothes. She smiled, for she had dressed into her pyjamas before making her bathroom exit, and took up her hairdryer and hairbrush.

_Don't sleep with wet hair! Always dry it before you sleep, or your brain will get soggy!_ The joke echoed in her head, followed by the floating memory of Irene from long ago, when Rogue, then eight years old, had a bath in the middle of the night because her scalp was itching her sleepless. The lady gave her that piece of advice as she was making her way back to her room. Then she taught her how to use a hairdryer. As a child, Rogue wondered how she could use a hairdryer while blind. Now, there were no secrets left to wonder.

_Mystique_.

Rogue yanked the hairbrush from the tangle in her hair, barely feeling the twang as a dozen strands were ripped out from their roots.

"You keep doin' t'at and you won't have much hair left." Remy's soft, teasing voice came from behind her.

Blinking into reality, she realised he had stepped up beside her and was taking the things from her. He gestured. Most of her raw anger evaporated as she sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. She felt the mattress bounce as he joined her, warming at the other possibilities of that movement. But he gently combed a lock of her hair with the brush and began drying it for her. Despite the professional silence and tender grace he performed with, she could tell this is one thing he had never done for a girl before. His procedure was all wrong; one should start with the hair at the lower part of the head then ascend to the top to get a fluffy appearance. Instead, his objective was seemingly to get her head dried.

"Thanks." she said after he was done with the hairdryer, not wanting to raise her voice too loud over the droning. Already Kitty and Kurt had nagged her that night about why she had Remy's boxers and he had her bra.

From behind her, his deep voice blew into her ear. She smiled again. "What're you thinkin' 'bout when you're starin' at nothin'?" he asked, combing her hair.

"Depends." she replied, trying to avoid what he was really asking. "Sometimes it's mah' memories, sometimes it's not."

"And just now?" he posed the question with more concern than curiosity.

"Mah'ne." she answered with a harsher tone than intended. She bit her lip against the pang of guilty repentance. There was no need to take out her self-frustration on him.

"Ah see." He gave her hair one last comb and she heard the _thop_ of her stuff being placed on her dresser.

"Ah'm just upset over Mystique and her poisoning gig." she half-admitted, softened her tone for his sake. "She does the stupidest things for the stupidest reasons. And she doesn't care who suffers, as long as she wins."

"That's what they adopted us for." he remarked coldly. He put his hand on her arm reassuringly. "Ah was pissed t'hear Jean-Luc even think 'bout usin' mah' powers t'ruin t'e Rippers when all Ah wanted t'do was rescue 'im."

She remembered her first thought when she saw Remy standing next to his foster father. _So rats can walk on two legs_. Then she could not help but compare their physical appearances, despite knowing there was no common blood between them. Jean-Luc sprouted a thin moustache that made him look all the more rat-like while Remy bore a tuft goatee. She wondered if Remy had purposely chosen his facial look to differ from his foster parent's. "And when he got interested in mah' powers?"

"T'at's what really got meh." He pulled her to his chest, which she took to lean into him.

The heady smell of cologne, cigarettes and his own individual scent distracted her for a moment. "You sounded more pissed." she murmured.

"He wouldn't stop askin' meh' questions 'bout you after t'at." He rested his head atop hers.

A familiar ball of disgust formed in her gut. "It's lah'ke we're not even people."

"We aren't." That instantaneous and frivolous retort made her glance up. She saw a world of unreadable emotions in those eyes that were turned to her. "Why d'you think we're here instead of watchin' a midnah'te movie?"

She smiled at the possibility of meeting him if neither of them were mutants. "Ah don't think we would've eva' met, if we didn't have powers."

"We mah'ht, _Chéri_." he countered. "Louisiana and Mississippi are side by side."

She had temporarily forgotten her map of the south, but not their distance. "They're hell-a-big states. And Ah'm stayin' in the suburbs, you're in the middle of a swamp."

"If Ah ain't a mutant, Ah wouldn't have been a Thief." he replied.

True. If it were not for his eyes, he would have never been a baby abandoned, pulled into the pick pocketing business, become the object of interest of power-hungry crime lords. "Ah know."

"Y'do?" he sounded surprised.

She turned to face him. "Blood Moon Bayou."

Remy gazed into her pearl-grey eyes. He had never wondered if she had seen anything more than his rescue scheme. Maybe it was the contact period that did it. He was not sure how long his little pinky had touched her then, and certainly now the memory was fuzzy. Curiosity welled inside him to breech the subject, but to do that would direct the conversation away from the topic he had in mind: her powers. "Oh." he managed to reply.

She stared back, her lowered eyelids hooding any expression from him. "You weren't really thinkin' about how t'get t'your father much as what t'do with meh afterwards."

"Ah wasn't gonna abandon you." he protested.

"But you didn't wanna take me with you either." It was a statement of fact, not an accusation.

He took a breath of release, suddenly aware of a tension that he did not notice was there before. "The Thieves Guild ain't a place t'bring you home to."

She lowered her eyes to twist the cloth of his shirt around her finger. "In case Jean-Luc made plans for meh."

The last thing Remy wanted since he concocted this plan was for that man to discover another mutant, especially one that had captured his most mercenary attentions. His original plan was for the two to never meet at all. But he had embarked on helping her and his father, selfishly arranging that he helped his father first, so he agreed to take her along. However, he grew uneasy about the change of plans during journey into the bayou. "Ah wanted t'set – "

"Set meh up in a hotel t'wait for you t'return your father t'the Guild." she interrupted, smiling. "But then when the X-Men appeared, you thought you should let them take meh home and you'll pick up where you left off later, when you could do whatever you wanted."

He closed his jaw at a loss of trying to redeem his past intensions, although the reasons he was here in her room were the exact same things.

"Ah was upset t'find out Ah was second place in your agenda." Her smile faded. "And you could've just asked meh t'help yah. You lied t'meh. That's why Ah left."

"Then why am Ah still here?" He could think another woman who would be throwing him out of the Institute and setting Logan onto him to eat his liver.

"You actually wanted t'help meh. That's enough for meh." She rested her head on his chest. It was a simple movement that so many other women have done to him, yet this time, a sense of protectiveness stirred within him and he wrapped his arms around her, careful to avoid her bare skin. She submitted to him in mute trust. For once, he realised her shoulders were relaxed, not just succumbed into force or limp with desire, but relaxed to a point he could sense a peace in her heart.

It would be monstrous to break it now. All it would take would be one word, he was certain it would be a name, to tear this calm to shreds. So he lowered himself to lie against her pillow with her half lying atop of him.

But sooner or later, the question would be raised. She could not contain the answer forever and someone will have to be there when she loses to her conscience. Those were the words that Logan left him with before leaving the hospital room. Now, he spent the last moments before his eyes closed imagining her reactions and how he would bear them.

* * *

**Hmmm. This is probably one of the quickest updates ive ever posted. =D review? tell me if you understand what the heck is going on, or lack thereof! i'll make it clearer for you or just write it all out in the next update!**

**- peace!**


	19. Lost and Found

**Living the X-Men Life 19**

He tried.

Between his and Rogue's closet make-outs and aimless strolls on the Institute grounds, they talked. Usually it was about the South, which Rogue became most nostalgic about and Remy felt compelled to remind her of the sights, the scents and the world that she missed. Other times they manage to reach the topic about their pasts. He told her what he wanted to and she nodded along or even added the little bits of detail he had purposely left out to see what she knew about him. Sometimes she was horribly close to the truth and he would feel a stirring of panic, then her knowledge would subside and, to his relief, she asked him to fill her in. Guilt chewed at a little corner at the back of his mind about bluffing her. But what else can he do?

When it came to her past, she was more hesitant than he. At most she mumbled about a snippet of a scene with this Irene Adler in it, who Remy remembered from one of Magneto's time-wasting lectures to be a mutant with future-revealing powers, and how good a foster mother she _was_. Rogue stressed on that word very often. He would take it in with a considerate silence. He realised her foster life was more screwed than his. He had learned since he stepped into the Guild that he was nothing more than their mutant recruit, to be used as and when it pleased them. Straight to the point. She, on the other hand, thought she was cared for if not loved. To discover that it was a flaky charade broke the already tender heart she had. Her entire world turned upside down and she fell out of the box alone, lost, hurt.

Perhaps she had recovered some sense of direction by staying in the Institute, she mumbled thoughtfully. Logan was a fellow loner, but he had made himself a sort of grouchy uncle to the students, though still retaining the military attitude of unyielding toughness and focus. She admired Kurt for his optimism and unconditional affection toward people, his characteristic inner child attitude that made him the lovable fuzzy one. And Kitty was a great gal-friend with her enthusiasm and openness and delicate innocence that fooled people into thinking her vulnerable. Rogue knew better. Kitty had the brightest ideas, a strong spirit and filial loyalty. Evan, when he was younger, was the jovial clown that had the hardest head. Scott was upright, responsible and obligating to help others, although pressed and flattened into the cliché leadership role. Jean was brilliant, tall and pretty – the model of excellence. _Nevermind that_, Rogue broke into a small smile, _Now that she's pregnant_. The Institute, if anything, had unwrapped her solitude to friendships.

"And the Professor?" Remy asked.

Rogue merely looked at him. "He tries. Ah lah'ke his patience, but Ah don't have it in meh' t'try." She broke away to stare into the sea.

This was too much talk, he thought. He slid his hands around her waist to crawl up her generous chest. "Ah lah'ke it when you're _impatient_..." he purred into her ear. It was quite a long while before either spoke again.

* * *

The Institute's doorbell rang two more times after Evan pressed it. Both times, Remy answered them, simply because he was the nearest to the door at that moment.

After his evening jog, Rogue wanted to dinner with him 'away from everyone else'. He happily complied and was going out the front door when it rang. No harm, he figured. He opened it for a blonde, masked man in a red and black jumpsuit with a pair of angelic wings behind him. It took Remy a moment to remember the codename Angel before he was slammed into a daze by a powerful sail of feathers. Rogue ran to his rescue just as Warren Worthingham collared him up from the floor and, Warren admitted later, about to fly back outside to hang him atop some very high place. When asked if the multi-millionaire was intending to stay permanently, he turned down the offer, instead had come to see Professor Xavier on business. But Remy noticed, afterwards, the X-Men communicator poking out of a pocket in Angel's jumpsuit.

But X-23 took Remy's cake.

He had no idea that the small, slim brunette, standing below his chest level, could pack a wallop from hell. Sure she had a pair of familiarly determined eyes that reminded him of someone but it was in the middle of a night and he had just got through his third can of beer.

"_Bonsoir, petit _(Good evening, little one)." he greeted after a quick scan of her. "_Comment peux j'aidez-vous_? (How may I help you?)"

"_Je_? (Me?)" She replied in perfect French, her accent faultless and pronunciation so clearly defined that Remy started at it. "_Je suis venu pour me joindre X-Men_. _**Quoi encore**_? (I've come to join the X-Men. What else?)" She ended with an impatient bark.

Remy stepped back at her outburst. "_J'essayais d'être poli_. (I was trying to be polite.)" he muttered, moving aside like a gentleman for her to walk in.

She sniffed him over as she passed him – a very queer gesture for a girl. "_Je pourrais jurer que c'est une certaine sorte d'école_. (I could swear this is some sort of school.)"

"_Oui. _(Yes.)" he answered suspiciously.

"Then why are you smokin' in here?" she scowled, her unplucked eyebrows furrowing together accusingly.

He stared down at her and swirled the beer in the can, wondering what right this kid has to scold him for puffing in a house that is not hers yet.

Her frown deepened. "Do you understand English?"

"Yeah." he drawled, his accent thickened with restrained offence.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Then why did you speak French? I had thought you were some uneducated fool who must have been enrolled here by mistake!"

"Ah teach here." he answered back, purposely stepping forward to tower over her. But if this kid wants to join who was he to deny her? He put a sociable hand on her undersized shoulder. "But if you wanna join, t'e Professor's sleepin'. Ah think Logan's still awake –"

"Don't touch me!" she suddenly lashed out at him and her foot smashed into his shin.

For two seconds, it was numb. Then a lightning bolt of pain burst and he gave a long winding hiss, hopping toward a wall to balance himself while he nursed his shin. "_Mérde_! You got adamantium in your leg?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Yeah." she snapped back. Remy glared at her, unsure whether she was mocking him or telling him the truth.

"What's goin' on here?" A deeper growl diverted both of their attentions.

"Logan?" The little girl's voice melted into something delighted and Remy watched her break into a crooked smile.

_Must be her puberty stage_, Remy thought wryly. _But why Logan?_

"Kid?" Logan's eyebrows jumped up in absolute surprise.

_So they know each other_, Remy concluded, still rubbing his shin. _Same attitude, same temper, same metal bones. Ah should've known._

"My name's actually Laura." She walked up to him shyly.

Logan smiled back at her with a fatherly gaze before turning to Remy. "See yer' met the swamp rat."

"He's annoying." She nodded at Remy. Logan's grin broadened cruelly.

Remy put down his hurting leg. "Father-daughter?" he asked.

"It's not a pretty story." Logan replied grimly.

He deliberately grinned the careless grin that made Logan scowl, making Laura scowl too.

Logan caught him after tucking Laura into a spare bedroom. "Sore subject. Don't bring it up again."

Remy nodded slowly, not fully comprehending what it meant, but understanding the world of hurt left unsaid.

And he swore to Rogue the next day on his way to French class that he was not going to answer the door ever again. He may not survive the fourth encounter. She shrugged and, at Remy's pleading request, answered the door that day instead, after he sprinted out of the front parlour.

She met a beautifully blonde, curly-haired, fully bosomed woman, her arms crossed and eyes half-closed, giving her a proud, bitchy appearance. Rogue did not like her one bit.

"Can Ah help you?" Rogue asked with more than a pinch of hostility. She knew the Professor should have kept the main gate closed.

The woman raised a pale, arched eyebrow. "Ah'm here t'see Remy LeBeau." Her voice had an authoritative pitch and a Southern drawl that Rogue recognised. Both Julie the Ripper and Remy the ex-Thief had it. This woman was definitely from the French Quarter in New Orleans too. What business could she have here? "Calls 'imself Gambit." Or more specifically, what business with Remy?

"He's busy." she replied as calmly as she could, narrowing the opening of the door. "Can Ah take a message?"

"If Ah wanted t'be hung up on, Ah would've just called." the woman retorted impatiently.

Rogue scowled. If this lady wants to see Rogue's Remy, she has got to get past Rogue. "Who are you?"

"Belladonna o' the Assassins."

First and foremost was fear that sprung within Rogue at the mention of the Assassins. Thoughts of danger whizzed through her head and she suddenly grasped that this must be what Remy was running from. The Thieves had powerful enemies, she knew, and she knew Remy did not tell the Professor the full truth. And now his enemies have tracked him down.

A cold, bitter part of Rogue then rose up and she could think clearly again. There were no bodyguards protecting this swamp witch, and it was broad daylight. If necessary, she would take this pedicure princess out by herself! Remy would be safe with his secrets buried six feet under. "Why d'you wanna see Remy?"

"Ah'm his wife."

Rogue would have stumbled back if she were not holding so tightly to the door handle. _Wife???_ She glanced down at the woman's fourth finger, and there was _the_ ring. Then the bitterness shrouded her. "Ah'm his girlfriend."

Now it was that woman's turn to take a step back. But the motion was more thoughtful than shocked or angry. "Ah knew he had moved on."

A strange feeling of triumph simmered away the chill in Rogue. "Reall'eh?"

"That's Remy for you." Belladonna scoffed.

Rogue felt a cruel sense of curiosity that made her step out and close the door behind her. "You know this is a school for mutants, rah'te?"

Belladonna smiled unblinkingly. "Yeah. Am Ah welcome here?"

"The Professor won't lah'ke it, but Ah could arrange that you don't meet the rest."

"That's very nice."

Rogue led her to the gazebo overlooking the cliffs, where she was certain no one would be at 9a.m., especially Remy. She seated herself and Bella down on the plaster railing, with a sheer drop on one side.

"Where exactly is Remy?" Bella asked.

Rogue pondered telling her. What if this woman was only playacting to trick her into surrendering Remy over? She would be risking his neck. But she had made the choice of letting the Assassin on the mansion grounds already. "He's teachin' the kids."

Her eyes widened in incredulity. "Teachin' what?"

"French."

Bella burst out laughing, a high-pitched ring that made Rogue a little jealous that she could still sound so womanly. "Ah suppose that's the only thing he's good at, outside all the fightin' and his powers. Otherwise he's useless."

Rogue could not help frowning at that last statement. "Then why'd you marry him?"

Bella paused, a crafty smile growing on her smooth features, making her more witch-like than ever. "Remy's got 'is hooks into you, don't he?"

Rogue did not like this. She was supposed to be asking the questions and digging the dirt on Remy's secret life, not her!

"Be careful, _Chéri_." Bella cut her off before Rogue would fashion a retort. "Remy captures many gals' hearts and leaves those hearts in the bed."

It startled Rogue to be called that endearing term by a woman. "He did that t'yah?"

Bella smiled and blinked away the suggestion. "We're married for business."

"_Business_?" Rogue heard herself repeat on impulse. She bit down her tongue for that immature remark.

"Business." Bella took a breath and sighed. Rogue noticed the sigh was not regretful or anguished. As a matter of fact, it had little emotion at all. "How'd you know Remy?"

"He tried t'blow meh up. You?"

Bella pursed her lip. "Ah tried t'kill him."

"How'd you lose?" Rogue asked, knowing full well that Remy was not a dead man, yet.

"Ah!" Bella tucked away a loose curl. "He got a charm no boy his age could match. And seein' he got himself another woman, he still got it."

"Look, Ah don't mean t'steal –"

"Not your fault, _Chéri_." She gave a dismissive wave with the air of a matriarch. "Not your fault at all. He didn't tell you. Fact, he tells no one he's a married man."

"You two've been married long?"

Bella shook her head, amused. "If you count runnin' off on the weddin' mornin' _long_, Rogue, you'd better not marry yourself."

Rogue's eyes involuntarily widened at the mention of her name.

"Research, _Chéri_."

"So you know meh'?"

Bella let her eyes roam over the patches of skin Rogue exposed. "Not as much info as Ah lah'ke. But good enough t'know who Ah'm dealin with."

"Too bad Ah don't know anythin' 'bout you." Rogue replied.

"Don't tell meh' Remy never mentioned _moi_?"

"Never."

"You never absorbed him?" Rogue slowly sat upright. This Assassin was not joking when she said she knew enough. "Ah'm sure you did. You had his eyes for awhile, when Ah introduced myself, now they're grey." Bella pointed a languid finger at her.

Rogue did not like where the conversation was going. "So he left you on the weddin' day?"

"At least he gave back my dowry." Bella answered unwaveringly.

"And his ring?"

"And the tux."

"And he vanished."

"But o'course! He's the best Thief that eva' lived. Not even his own family could track him down. We only heard news last year that he joined a gang o'mutant thugs." She paused. "You know, Rogue, if he ain't a Thief, he ain't worth nothin' t'meh. And he has his hooks deep int'you too. Ah'm thinkin', you X-Men can have him."

A mixture of surprise, delight and suspicion stirred inside her. "Ah thought you came all the way from Louisiana."

"Your point?"

"Thought you might wanna... kill him, or somethin'."

"Three years ago, that's exactly what Ah wanted." Bella mused. "He knew it too. So he ran away instead o'facin' meh up. But hearts doesn't always grow fonder."

"Doesn't mean we can't give him a good scare." Rogue suggested darkly. Remy had been dealing half-truths to her, concocted lies with a sugar coating of truth, again. Again. She had no expectations of knowing everything about him but she had hoped that whatever jigsaw she had put together of him was trustworthy. Apparently, some bits were from another set and she was not about to let him get away with those pieces.

"You're angry, _Chéri._" Bella smiled. "Ah don't blame you. But it's called business. Not personal." Her voice was steady, laced with a pensive air. Then a mischievous grin stretched across her modellicious face. "Ah won't mind meetin' him again, for the last time."

Rogue slid off the railing. "If you stay rah'te here, Ah'll get yah' a drink and a LeBeau."

"Take your time. Ah'll be enjoyin' d'e view."

* * *

**Remy is quite screwed.**

***thinks* anyway work has been getting on my nerves. theres this newb who cant tell a good joke to save his life and he keeps trying, esp sarcasm (i wanna call up Jigsaw and make a special appointment for this guy). he keeps forgetting to give customers their bloody forks&spoons and i end up having to face the rotton music. its not even my fault dammit! lesson to learn: dont work in f&b unless your ass is prepared to be chewed for someone else's. so the effect of this chapter may not have been produced as planned. but theres no excuse for a bad update so please please yell at me if i failed your expectations! dont hide out on me! there's nothing i hate more than a piece of crappy work.**

**BACK TO THE STORY: XMen Evo never designed a Bella Donna for the show itself and im a bit tired of seeing the mad bitch version. yeah i made up my own Bella Donna - 'it's business, not personal' type. Godfather-ish. no insane longing for remy, no super-ambition to wipe out the Thieves or X-Men or Rogue, and no fighting. she's a deal-maker and schemer, reserving her energy for her Assassin businesses so finding remy is not her priority. casually, she just pops by to confront the man who left her. savvy? =D**

**till next time, dear beloved readers!!! thank you =D - inspiration&strife**


	20. Found and Disowned

**I think the chapter title is a real spoiler. But nonetheless, ENJOY!**

* * *

******Living the X-Men Life 20**

Remy poked his head into Rogue's room. The "Boo." he wanted to surprise her with died on his lips upon seeing the room empty. He closed the door, embarrassed to an invisible audience.

After hunting unsuccessfully about the house and ducking Tabitha, he decided to ask a book-absorbed Piotr.

"Yes, she asked me where you were about twenty minutes ago. She wanted to surprise you with something." Piotr looked up at him. Remy's grin made Piotr shook his big head and turn a page. "You are hopeless."

"She didn't say where she is?" he asked.

"No." Piotr replied blandly. "Maybe if you wait here she'll come by again."

Remy had just swung himself next to the giant and pulled out his deck of cards when a soft Southern voice interrupted his self-entertainment. "Hey Remy..." she slurred her words in the low-toned way that made him tight.

Without looking at her, he discreetly elbowed Piotr in the ribs.

"I had sat here first." The giant grumbled, but being good-natured, he got up and made his exit.

Remy stayed put and shuffled his cards, pretending to play aloof, despite the rousing need in his jeans. "You got somethin' t'say t'me, _Chéri_?"

He heard her stepping up behind him and felt the pressure of her arms leaning on either side of his head on the sofa headrest. The heat of her gloved hands wandered from his temples down to the sides of his neck to measure his shoulders. He shuddered at her touch, looking up to meet her face. Her eyes were half-closed in seduction and her delicious lips making him ache even harder for her. As he fumbled to get a card to his lips, her full, soft chest pressed against the back of his head. He reached behind her neck –

– and she stopped him with a finger on the card. "Meet meh' at the gazebo in ten minutes and Ah'll tell yah." With that, she turned her heel as swiftly as if nothing had passed between them.

He twisted around to watch her leave so abruptly. _Damn_, she had swung her cute little ass on purpose, he knew it. He shook away the small idea that something was amiss about her behaviour. _Ten minutes!_ Perhaps a cigarette could distract him. And he would stroll along the cliffs. He sighed helplessly. He could not wait!

He leapt off the couch. His mind whirled with images stemming from his groin – him pinning her to the pillar, she perched dangerously on the railing while he held her hard against him, them forgetting the lousy gazebo altogether and rolling in the grass...

As he neared the gazebo, he made out a curvy figure sitting with crossed legs under the shade of the little hut's roof, her face to the sea. A jolt of reaction buzzed up his spine and his steps quickened. But instead of an unkempt maroon head of hair, he met a length of golden tresses. And the sea breeze blew a familiar scent from her toward him. It was so familiar that a knot of frustration formed in his gut. Rose perfume and cigarettes. If only he could remember when he last sniffed this stuff...

The slender back straightened itself as the woman it belonged to heard his boot scatter a few pebbles in his abrupt stop. The golden locks turned slowly in his direction, revealing a face. _Holy Mary. _Recognition slapped him so hard he almost staggered back. _Ah'm a dead man_. "Bell."_ Hell!_

At the acknowledgement of her name, she had pulled the smoke from her lips and casually flicked the ash onto the floor. "Nice to see you too, Remy LeBeau." The woman of his most dreaded nightmares drawled quietly in French. "I'm glad you haven't forgotten me."

"How did you find me?" He forced his voice to steady, resorting to formal French in the process.

Her chilly eyes narrowed as she leaned her back against a pillar and stretched her long legs upon the railing, purposely making contrast against his rigid stand. "I was bound to find you someday."

"That's not my question." He threw back impulsively. A damned childish response, he scolded himself.

A thin trail of grey escaped her lips. "Youtube." Her answer was steadfast. "_Mutant freakshow at local theatre - Bayville_. That cinema incident?" She held up her hand. "Almost six million views overnight. Who could miss it? Probably half the world's seen your pretty face by now." She finished scanning his form and locked her eyes to the right of his head. "You even took off the earring." she murmured.

Remy avoided her icy gaze for a moment to count the days. It has been almost three weeks since his and Rogue's first date. "Why did you wait?" He heard himself demand.

"We Assassins got more important business than t'go hunting for ex-Thieves." she replied in English. Then he noticed her eyes dart beyond him.

He turned around. At the sight of Rogue standing behind him holding chilled Coke bottles and an equally cold stare, his heart wanted to jump out of his throat and run into the deepest hole on earth and hope to God above his body would be fine.

"Ten minutes, huh?" Her tone dripped with sarcasm as she walked past him. Evidently, his ex-wife and Rogue have met. And God knows she was mad. He speechlessly watched her hand over a drink to the other woman.

"_Merci, Chéri._" Bella shifted her legs off the railing to make room for Rogue to sit.

"No problem."

_Great_, she was on his ex-wife's side.

He stole a glance at Bella Donna. He shivered to recall the name. Bella Donna. He had come to see her as a symbol of everything from his past – from his bastardry to his manipulation. She was the little girl who called the shots at the playground. She needled the fine web of status quo among the kids growing up, where he was rock bottom for his orphan origins. Their engagement rings might have been iron chains to forever shackle him to servitude. She was the first girl to slap him too. Rogue was the second.

"Any day now." Rogue snapped him out of his private thoughts.

Bell gave him a delicately smug look. "Ah'm guessin' there ain't gonna be lovin' t'nah'te."

He clenched his jaw shut. He could run. They were perched on the gazebo. Behind him was wide open space with plenty of bush. Instead he was rooted where he was, caught like a rat in a trap. _A swamp rat in a trap_. And the cats looked hungry. He shuffled his feet to step into their space, raking back his hair. "Rogue, Bella – Ladies, let me explain..."

"Please do."

Remy winced as Bell pulled at her cigarette with an expression so blank that he could not read her. He did not know whether he hated or feared her more. "This was all three years ago. Jean-Luc and –" Bell's eyes chilled in warning. "– her grandfat'er arranged t'is whole thing since we were kids. Ah couldn't say no."

"T'at's rah'te." Bella cut in, much to Remy's horror. _When this woman starts her talkin', there's no stopping her!_ "But you knew how t'say 'No thanks'. Now, before you start workin' your magic words t'make this whole thin' sweet and pretty, Ah wanna know, why you did it."

There. She just tore apart everything he had in mind to do. He glanced at Rogue who was listening closely.

"Seriously, tell us the truth." Rogue said.

_The truth_. If they were asking for an explanation, a console or even an apology, he would give it and decide later whether to keep to his word or not. But he was no good at telling the truth. "What d'you wanna know?"

While Bella blew out a puff of smoke emotionlessly, Rogue started taking a threatening step toward him, "You could start wi –"

"Wait a minute." Bell caught her accusing finger by the wrist, pulling her back to the railing. "Remy, you know what t'say, don't you?"

He mockingly replied, "Ah do."

"You do." she acknowledged it with a grin. "Then let's have it."

"Marryin' you – If Ah did, right now Ah would be runnin' aroun' for the Thieves and the Assassins, fightin' for their money, under you, under Jean-Luc, under your grandfather. Ah thought 'bout it every nah'te before the weddin'. Bell, it wasn't easy leavin'."

She blinked. "If you had enough o'takin' orders from people, why'd you work for Erik Lehnsherr?" Magneto. Remy felt a pang of self-conflict, but quickly smothered any expression of it with a blink. "Cash? Power? You could have all that in the Guilds. And more. Our marriage would've brought peace, our family could take anythin' we want."

"It's not 'bout _the money_." he replied with some strain. _Was it really?_ He sometimes sat up at night wondering what was the difference between bunking rooms with John and with Etienne. The times were the same when he kicked either out of the room for a girl, when he was woken up in the middle of the night for a mission, he would stare out the window and question himself, _What the hell are you doing?_ "It ain't even 'about you."

"What 'bout this X-Men?" Bella tossed her cigarette butt. "What they gotta do wit' anythin'?"

"Ah make my own choices, Bell." At the piercing look she shot him, he lifted his face to return the glare, spreading his arms invitingly. "You angry? Come and get me."

In a time lapse too short for Rogue to react, Bella had transformed from languid to vicious. She took one step forward and flew at the man who wronged her. A sharp glint of metal emerged from, it appeared to Rogue, the back of her bare hand.

Rogue just managed to jump to her feet in instinctive fear for Remy when Bella lashed her blade at said Cajun's neck. He barely sidestepped her, whipping out a charged card in the same defensive motion. The blonde whirled around and the ex-es clashed forearms.

Rogue snatched off her glove.

Remy recovered from the impact faster to catch Bella's knife-wielding hand. He saw the red glow of his eyes reflected on her placid face. Her eyes burned him with an icy stare. Emotionless. Unreadable. There was no sign of life, no fire in her eyes. He might as well be glaring at a machine.

This woman was nothing like Rogue. Rogue could glance at him and he would see the bonfire of her fierce soul. Even at her most quiet, he had a notion to what she was thinking. Rogue could feel. Rogue does things out of impulse. Like now, Rogue surrendered him over to this Assassin for his punishment, not knowing who she was dealing with. At this moment, with a blade near his throat – not a bed – he found his body stirring for her more than ever.

"You dare face me down." Bella's smile of approval took him unawares. "You're not the same, Remy." Her hand released the silver knife, clattering onto the floor and he released her. But he kept his card between his fingers just in case. She kept her calculative gaze fixed on his face. "Ah have somethin' t'return you."

His immediate thought was to the gold band around her fourth finger.

She glanced away to finger out a thin metal chain from her jacket pocket. At the end of it dangled a small silver ring that she held out to him. "It's mine. Ah kept yours. Consider keepin' the memory a fair favour for me not killin' you."

He let the chain trickle into his palm. He stared at it for a second before he felt his face swing to the left as her hand came in contact with his face.

"Now, we're even."

Remy nursed his cheek. He deserved that. "Then whose's that?" he asked.

She fondled the gold with a tender smile that Remy immediately became suspicious of. "Etienne's."

Remy's eyes boggled with shock. _What does that moron foster cousin think he's doing?!_

"He loves me." She reverted to French. "Your father wanted to exploit it as a truce but I don't want it. Now that I call the shots, the Guild don't need this anymore."

"The Thieves' aren't gonna be happy with your idea." he replied in French.

Her eyes narrowed as her lips twisted into a cynical smile. "You're not a Thief. Stay out of our business." Without a second glance, she broke away from him and turned her heel toward Rogue. "Ah'm sorr'eh 'bout that. Needed t'test his balls. Maybe you should go t'him, _Chéri_. Help his poor face."

Rogue seemed to consider her request before approaching him a bit reluctantly. The stirring within him intensified but he stayed where he was, eager to see what she would do if he did nothing. "Rogue..."

She softly traced the outline of the red hand mark on his face with a gloved finger. "Does that hurt?" she asked.

"_Oui_."

_SLAP!_ On the other cheek.

He slowly turned from being thrown to the left to see Rogue walking toward Bella Donna . "Wanna get a coffee or somethin'?" she suggested.

Bella slid out a cellphone and glanced at the screen. "Sure. Ah'll buy."

The ladies strolled out of the gazebo without hesitation, though Rogue shot him a _now_-you're-forgiven look as she passed him. Remy rubbed his face and stood looking out to the sea for a long moment.

"Wait a minute," he suddenly muttered to himself. "My ex-wife and girlfriend are gettin' along?"

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**EX-WIVES AND PRESENT GIRLFRIENDS SHOULD NEVER MEET. First rule of peace. The second rule of peace is DON'T DEMAND A FOUR-PERSON SOFA SEAT AND SCOLD THE WAITRESS IF SHE CANNOT GIVE IT TO YOU BECAUSE THERE'S ONLY TWO OF YOU. random ranting...apologies.**

**anyway, a sudden happy thought hit me while i was ranting. i have another chapter in mind to write next, but im wondering if anybody wants a gossip scene between bella&rogue while they're having coffee? review and give me your vote! =D its gonna be about remy (buh-then?) and all the embarassing things he was up to as a kid... oh yeahh.**

**- PEACE! inspiration&strife =D**


	21. Logan hates Cajuns

**WHEEEEEEEEE AT LAST!!! geez ive been slacking. well no i just ran out of ideas. but REJOICE! I'M BACK!**

***crickets***

**fine. read on. =D i would like to solemnly dedicate this chapter's success to a friend, helenxxx.**

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Living the X-Men Life 21

On his way out, he noticed a glimmer on the floor: Bella's knife. No more than eight inches, he turned it over in his hand, careful to avoid the double-edged blade that he was sure was murderously sharpened to its tip. It did not take the Assassin Guild's insignia on the small handle to represent all that was Bella Donna. Beautiful, polished and seemingly blood-innocent. Nothing less. Carved onto the thin stiletto steel were the chillingly affectionate words _'To Remind You of Me'_. He wrapped it in the cloth intended for Rogue's kiss and sheathed the dagger in his pocket.

_Marry Etienne – What kind of sick joke is she playin'?_

With nothing else to do but wait for Rogue to return, Remy found himself strolling toward a racket near the garage. The kids were playing mutant basketball in the rubber-padded outdoor court. In the shadow of the garage, Remy noticed the shin-smashing brunette watching the scene play out.

Upon seeing Remy appear, Ray waved to him and signalled a time-out. Remy only half-smiled when Sam took advantage of the seconds Ray forfeited to score a three-pointer.

"Hey man! That ain't –" Ray bit his tongue for a reason Remy figured was to stop himself from swearing. "– fair!"

The other kids laughed, including the girls sitting in the bench.

Tabitha clicked her tongue. "Saw that Ray..."

"You lost." Bobby shrugged, wiping sweat from his forehead. "13-5. Game over."

Ray turned to hand-in-pocket half-amused Remy. The scene was all too familiar to the playground-joke Cajun who strolled into centre court uninvited.

"Man, you gotta help me." Ray pleaded, fanning his face with his shirt collar. "Bobby's got Sam and Roberto. They left me with –" He apologetically referred to Jamie.

"Hey!" squeaked the kid in question. "I can be six of me at once!" With that, he demonstrated his team skills and five kids sprouted from the original holding the basketball.

"Yeah, but all of you are..." Ray measured Multiple's vertical qualities.

Remy cocked his head to the ladies. "Get t'e gals t'play."

"We would!" yelled Jubilee. "It's not like we're enjoying the sun here."

"Bobby won't let us." whined Rahne.

"'Cos you gals can shove us around but if we touch you, you'll start your screaming and Scott will nag us about bullyin' you and ban us from playing." Bobby recited his explanation as he smacked down the ball from Jamie.

Remy smacked the ball upside as Bobby passed him and caught it, grinning down at the boy.

***

On Xavier's request, Ororo left the three men in his office from the wide window and flew her way down to the basketball court. She had watched Remy and the kids wreck havoc in what began as a harmless test of skill. Now she would be interrupting his attempt to unfreeze his feet.

Remy lay back on the ice-layered ground with his hands clasped behind his head, apparently waiting his turn as fired-up Amara walked around melting the ice. He had his eyes closed so he could not share the coordinated, sheepish looks that the kids gave her when she glided over to them.

His mouth formed a theatrical 'O' when her shadow blocked the sun from his sweat-dotted face. "Look, Ororo," Remy sat up while he gestured his innocence. "None o'the gals are hurt and t'e boys were playin' fair."

She smiled in good humour at the so-called Prince of Thieves. He was nothing like his title sitting with his long legs propped up by the ice around his ankles. "Of course." she replied. "However appropriate it may be for the boys to play basketball half-naked with ladies."

"Eh." he shrugged, cocking aside a wet tendril of auburn hair. "Thanks for the breeze though."

After getting Amara to pay first-priority attention to his feet and blowing away most of the sweat (no need to overwhelm Xavier's office with more Cajun aroma), she walked the man in question into the building. He charmingly handled the door for her.

"So what kind'a trouble am Ah in?"

"There was a certain intruder that caught Charles's telepathic waves." He seemed to grimace it. "Will we be seeing any more of her? And is Rogue safe with her?"

"She's settled her business wit' me, and Rogue's in cahoots wit' her." he answered swiftly, a tiny confused hook marking his otherwise casual smile. "Sorr'eh if Ah caused any trouble."

"No trouble at all." she returned. She smiled to herself, thinking about the cheeky Cajun man sitting in Charles best easy chair telling them about his assassin wife. Yes, that was a tea party. She nodded appreciatively when Remy opened the office door for her. She took a moment to nod at Charles. "It's your word against his."

His eyebrows knotted together in some surprise. "Who's?" He glanced into the half-curtained room. His gaze skipped over Charles and Logan to fix on the new face that was twisted around upon their entry, and grinning at him. She watched Remy's face light up like a candle wick.

Ororo let the meaningful moment sink into his senses before enlightening him. "Mr. Etienne Lebeau. He accompanied Miss Boudreaux and had spent the time you were talking to her talking to us."

Etienne stopped to nod respectfully at her and she returned it. He stood up to a height identical to Remy's, the resemblance ending at the moppy brown hair. Then she watched him approach Remy with the same swagger in his step as Remy approached him. A small warmth lit inside her whenever she witnessed a happy reunion.

"Twenny cents, Rems." The statement took her astonished. But Etienne was firm as he flipped up his palm. "Three years. Ah should charge you interest. C'mon, you cheat, spit it out."

Ororo watched Remy consider it with a sly grin as he fingered his pocket. He wet a couple of his fingers with his tongue then smacked them onto Etienne's open hand. The other Cajun returned the exact same grin before cupping Remy's face with his hands.

"No, reall'eh. Ah'm serious 'bout that twenny cents."

They burst out laughing like a pair of boys caught in their private joke then clutched each other like the men they were.

***

_One hour ago..._

Ororo walked a couple of steps ahead of Charles to open the door for her wheelchair bound friend. There was an intruder on the grounds. Rogue let her in. Charles had mentally located them at the cliffs and sent Logan to keep an eye on the situation, but with strict orders not to interfere with this _Bella Donna Boudreaux_ until further instructions_._ She sighed; Logan could be a real pain sometimes. She considered herself a woman of steady constitution, but the stranger sitting on the sofa in the curtained side of the office stopped her in her tracks. It was a young man. His hands were clasped between his open legs and his pair of hazel eyes fixed on the 19th Century collectable hanging off the wall opposite shifted toward them as they entered. He turned to them, revealing other particularly handsome features.

He stood up slowly, graciously as a dimpled smile spread across his angular face, a trench coat hanging off his arm. He spread his lean muscled arms wide in a humble gesture. "_Bonjour_, Professor Charles Xavier. _Bonjour_,_ Mademoiselle_ Ororo Monroe. Ah'm here t'explain my wife's actions."

That blunt and effortlessly produced speech was followed by a doubly explicit self disbarment. The youth moved over to the desk in the centre of the room, faced them and set down a hand gun, a pistol, two sets of bullet refills, a penknife, a retractable fighting staff (which he opened and demonstrated his skill with a stylish twirl) and a stiletto blade. He stepped forward with his hands by his sides.

Charles spoke first in that cool, reassuring voice that settled her nerves. "Well, this is quite a valuable surprise, Mister ...?"

"Just Etienne, _Monsieur_. Etienne LeBeau. And Ah just wanna talk for awhile, if that be alright wit' you and the _mademoiselle_."

"No trouble at all." she replied, closing the door behind Charles. She gestured to the easy chair by the desk as Charles wheeled toward the opposite side. "Will you take a seat, Etienne?"

He tipped her an informal salute accompanied by a subtly toothy grin. "_Avec plaisir_, _merci_. (With pleasure, thanks.)"

Charles shuffled the most important papers and files into those wide drawers before knotting his fingers on the table. She sat herself on the edge of the desk. She wasn't a little girl to swing her legs around anymore, but she crossed her legs under her billowing lavender skirt.

He seemed to consider her briefly before turning to the Professor and finally the little glass bowl of peanuts that Charles left sitting on his desk while he worked.

"May Ah?" Permission granted, he picked several nuts and cupped them in one palm while he popped them into his mouth at intervals between his speech. "So d'you know 'bout the Thieves Guild? _Oui_? Good!... Mmmm, good nuts... D'you know 'bout the Assassins Guild? _Non_. Well, Remy and Ah – Yeah, you can say we grew up t'gether. Jean-Luc be his 'dopted father, Ah be Jean-Luc's first nephew – We're Thieves. Assassins are our blood enemy and Bella is one o'em. She's gonna be my wife in a couple o'months... These are good peanuts! ... But she was Remy's first. Ahhh, Ah knew he didn't mention it. Smart move, by him."

Just then, Logan entered and Etienne twisted around to take a look. "Anyway, Jean-Luc betrothed him and Bella. Now, Bella just wanna talk t'him, tell him it's over... May Ah? _Merci_... She's gonna tell him he ain't neither Thief or Assassin and settle everythin'. We don't want any trouble here but Remy hasn't left your Institute since that movies thing – Probation? Y'mean, the Prince o'Thieves been grounded?" He took a moment to laugh before coughing on some chewed peanut pulp. "That's good. Good. Oh, sorr'eh, Ah finished your snacks."

Charles waved the young man's apology away. "I hope what you tell us is the truth, Etienne."

"All cards on the table." he replied. He cleared his throat and appeared uncomfortable. "Uh, Ah forgot peanuts need some water."

Ororo took the hint more sociably than her old friends. "Logan, could you bring a glass for our guest?"

Logan harrumphed and walked toward the water dispenser.

"Ah, _non_!" Etienne sprung out of his seat and went over to the unwilling butler's side. He waved his hand insistently. "_Merci_, _Monsieur_. But Ah got it." He took the cup and finished it in two gulps.

"It's a very convincing tale, Etienne." continued Charles, opening his eyes. "But if I'm not wrong, Miss Boudreaux is planning to take Rogue out for a coffee..."

***

When they finally broke apart, Etienne stepped back with his hands on Remy's shoulders and scrutinised his cousin's body. He prodded Remy's more-than-adequately fit stomach. "Eh, you've gotten fat."

"_Pardonnez-moi_?"

"Ah used t'see your bones." Etienne grew a smile that Remy returned with a wily half-grin. "Call it muscle, Ah think –"

_WHOOOO-WEET!_

Ororo glanced about. A terribly attention-grabbing whistle had erupted from Etienne's pants. He mumbled an apology and pulled out his cellphone.

Remy had the most amused face. "'Tienne, you're a married man."

"So?" He put his phone to his ear. "Yeah, _Chéri_? ... Ah thought you have the keys..." He dug his pocket and a car key dangled on his finger. "Oops. Alright. Ah'm comin'."

Ororo noticed Remy's red eyes open slightly wider before turning to the trio who were left out of their conversation. "Ah'll walk this ugly thing out."

"People used t'say we were twins." Etienne returned smoothly as the Cajuns turned their back on the office.

Ororo let herself smile.

"Ah didn't know three years changed you so much either." Remy's voice echoed around the corner.

"Ah would mess your face right here, right now, but seems God did the job for me long ago."

She chuckled, much to Logan's annoyance. "How nice." he muttered. "Remy led his murderous ex-wife to our door."

"There's no need to think about any worse case scenarios." replied Charles, taking out his papers and files again to arrange them back into their respective slots. "Seeing as the whole scenario is over."

"But Chuck – There could be others out there."

Ororo frowned. "Unless he's been around the world more than once," she said reproachfully. Logan harrumphed again. She had just pointed to his cause for having so many enemies. "Or the Thieves Guild, a crime family living in a swamp, has powerful friends; this is _the_ problem Gambit has been running from."

"We don't know." Logan crossed his arms. "He's as old as you, Ororo."

"Are you worried for the X-Men, or for Rogue?" she sighed the question, for she had grown tired of this topic. "Three weeks. And a half."

"What about it?" he snorted.

"Rogue hasn't had a single headache. She and Tabitha are on non-violent terms again. Maybe it's time you take this as a good thing?"

"You have?" Logan put his knuckles on the table.

"Yes. Charles, I think it's time Remy shared Piotr's position."

Charles didn't even lift his head from his documents. "On the other hand, Rogue's quietness is a cause for alarm..."

A patter of quick footsteps led up to the door, followed by a polite knock and an open door. Remy walked in without invitation toward the desk and quickly tossed a worn leather rectangle onto it. He left as suddenly as he came.

Ororo stared after him in puzzlement. Taking up the item, she opened it. The strong whiff of old cigars identified the owner for her.

"It's yours." She stretched the wallet out to him.

Logan's unconvinced gaze transformed quickly to rude shock when he felt his jeans pocket. "Ah hate Cajuns." he scowled as he took the wallet back.

"The cash is still there." she said.

"Yeah, still." He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. "There they are."

Ororo turned to see Remy smack Etienne on the back of his head. "Remy wasn't the one who picked your pocket."

Logan snorted anyway.

They were passing the fountain where pigeons were taking their afternoon splash. Etienne pointed at the structure. Remy threw his arm around Etienne's neck and they made their way to the estate gates.

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**Pigeons? =D review or be pecked!**


	22. Or Die Tryin'

**Ahh! so im back with an update. =D no pointless rantings this time! i finally have an idea what im gonna do next with remy&rogue's relationship.**

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Living the X-Men Life 22

"You bloody son of a bitch." Remy smacked his cousin at the back of his head and did his best at looking stern about the wallet gig Etienne had pulled.

"_Mon mère_ (My mother) was a saint." His temporary pained look was swiftly replaced by a dramatic wide-eyed stare of fear. He pointed at the Institute's fountain. "Oh my god, _they_ found us!"

"Hell. Don't remind me." Remy gave the pigeons the smallest eye-contact as the memory of being pecked while dangling high up in a tree flashed through his mind. In an attempt to cover his personal embarrassment, he swung an arm around Etienne's neck as they resumed their walk.

Etienne grinned, a sign that he shared his thoughts. "So what were we talkin' 'bout again?"

"Your mother was a saint."

"Oh, yeah, she was." He fiddled with his coat collar and subtly shrugged off Remy's arm in the same movement.

Remy took the hint like an unspoken conversation between them. "Ah'm sorry. When?"

"Last year. Peacefully, thank God." He briefly did a cross sign on himself and looked at Remy, his eyes expectant.

Remy glanced aside and used the moment to pull on his shirt. "Ah haven't been goin'."

"_Non_. Guilty? You?" he scoffed. "Ah'm only goin' t'get legally married t'my _Chéri_, see? Otherwise my ass is too lazy t'drive three hours t'church. Y'know Sunday mornin's in the bayou are the best for big breakfasts, wakin' up late, doin' some lovin'... Not necessarily in that order."

"Oh, so you two've been _marryin'_, eh? Only the prayers and papers left. Bedroom ceremony's all done."

Etienne grinned and his eyes started gleaming wildly. Remy could almost see a playback of nighttime activities reflecting in those eyes. "You be the expert on that."

"_Merci_." The expert in question replied.

Etienne chuckled.

Remy was about to share the laugh when he laid eyes on his own _Chéri_, standing to her side with her hands on her shapely hips. Her eyes were fixed on him and gazing him over as if considering him about something. Then her gaze flickered to the other man next to him and back. He smiled. At least she wasn't fascinated with Etienne enough to ogle him – that she would still consider him. _Ha_.

Next to him, Etienne swore under his breath. Remy stopped smiling and elbowed him in the ribs. Apparently Etienne was the fascinated ogling one. Not that Remy was afraid Rogue might be seduced by his cousin (he had the better looks, after all), but perhaps he wasn't being sane where Rogue was concerned.

But that an elbow didn't stop Etienne from offering her his hand. "_Mademoiselle_ Rogue? Pleasure t'meet you and your glove." He bent over the black of her hand and tried to kiss it.

Much to Remy's pride and relief, Rogue didn't blush. She did what Rogue would do: she snatched her hand away and scowled, "Nauseous t'meet ya."

Etienne straightened himself up with a mock hurt expression on his face. "Remy's got you hooked, eh? Ah guess there ain't no way you might wanna change your mind and run away wit' me instead?"

"Not on your life."

"Rogue and Ah are goin' for coffee." Bella smiled coolly. "Ah don't suppose y'wanna join us?"

Remy would have loved to have cafe time with Rogue but the thought of dining on the same table as Bella wasn't his idea of a good time. Etienne ended up driving the Jag around Bayville to drop the ladies off at a quiet place and parking himself and Remy at Bayville's only jazz club for some hard drink. Remy found himself drifting back to his first date; the teasing, her dressing, the meal, the sunset kiss... He licked his suddenly dry lips. How long has it been since they kissed?

Somewhere on the other end of the daydream galaxy, he could barely hear Etienne talking.

"... So Ah ordered the usual for me, a milk bottle and baby bib for you. That alright?"

"Yeah, fah'ne." Remy pulled out his pack and offered Etienne a cigarette. Etienne lit them and they smoked in amiable silence.

Etienne's chuckle caught Remy's attention. "Share the joke."

"Ah was thinkin' 'bout those pigeons." he grinned.

Remy drew on his smoke. "That was a long time ago. When we were young and stupid."

"_Oui_,_ oui_. When _you_ were young and stupid."

"It was your idea t'climb the god-damned tree."

"Your idea t'climb _down_ the god-damned tree. That's what woke the vicious little bastards up."

"Oh yeah, whose footprints was the police followin' off the highway?"

"Both o'ours. Ah remember, we couldn't find the rendezvous and Henri drove off without us. The impatient asshole butt-fucked us the last minute."

Remy chuckled. If Henri heard that, Belle would have a eunuch husband. "Damn, were we butt-fucked. We were runnin' rah'te behind his car's ass and he didn't see us."

"'Cos he was lookin' at all the shiny he got. Y'know, y'should've charged up a rock or somethin' and hurled it at 'im."

"And tell Detroit there're half a dozen Naw'lins robbin' them blind? You're still young and stupid."

"Alright, don't hurl it at 'im. Maybe waved some o'that orange light t'get his attention. Why didn't you do that?"

"If Ah did, we won't be here in a jazz club in Bayville talkin' 'bout gettin' pecked t'bloody shreds by pigeons."

They laughed as the waiter laid out their drinks. Remy held out a piece of green before Etienne shoved his hand away and paid for him.

"You're out o'the job, Remy. And Ah got quite a bag o'honey comin' my way."

"Her dowry, _non_?"

"Very yummy sum. Lost count with all those zeros. This tie will make the Thieves' rich_er_. Jean-Luc, screw him, already has plans for it. The lousy – sorry."

"_Non_! Please insult 'im for me."

"The lousy money pimp ain't gonna get his hands on a cent. Ah'm gonna put one third o'it into all sorts o'shares and investments for both Thieves and Assassins gain. Quarter for the kids and other quarter for her. Last sixth for Thieves' resources. Enough to live on but not enough for _grande_ schemes. Ah promised old man Assassin Ah'll take care o'his daughter's cash, by hell, Ah will."

"He pissin' you for it?"

"_Oui_. Ever since Ah got the cheque signed by Bella's _père_ (father), he's been houndin' me lah'ke a hungry rapist." He patted his jeans.

"_D'ac_ (Understood)." A pickpocket's pocket is the safest place in the world.

"You been practicing?"

"When Ah'm out in public. Robbin' your own teammates who could kill you ain't advisable." he grinned. "But she doesn't agree t'that way o'life."

"Hmmm. She got the distractions for it though." He sipped the glass and licked his lips. "Men with fat wallets won't notice her hands as much as her chest."

"Oi. Don't start." Remy pointed his cigarette at him.

"Ooh, defensive! How come Chantal never got that attention?"

"'Cos her breasts were fuller than her brains. Like your Adèle."

"Addy had legs, not so much ass or tits." Etienne scratched his goatee tuft. "You should know."

"She couldn't make up her skinny mind." Remy chuckled. "Ah, remember Sophie?"

"Oh my God, Sophie!" He burst out laughing. "She was so _dumb_. So dumb. Li'erally, she laughs at our jokes the next day. Virginia too, God help 'em. Hey, they got their own 900 number now."

Remy coughed into his drink. "Oh balls. How?"

"Whore's d'oeuvres ain't my speciality. Ah've no idea. Walked along the Wall one day and there were their stupid faces winking at me. Heard they go for fifty a night. Heh, we got it for free."

"For free, my ass. Virginia was clingy."

"_You_, you should've known who's virgin, who's not. Her name spelled it out for you, dumbass."

"Eh, so am Ah responsible for her career?"

"Hell no! There's Monique, Colette, Inès, Pauline, Denise, and god-knows. Ah don't keep track o'who you fuck."

"Ah can't remember half the names."

Etienne grinned. "_Oui. _Takes at least three fucks t'get it right."

"_Non_." Remy replied, lighting a fresh stick. "Ah remember Rogue's just fah'ne."

Etienne's eyebrows jumped. Then his mouth made an understanding 'O' and he nodded into his drink.

Remy raised his glass. "T'the women o'our lives."

Etienne clashed his with Remy's. "Take care of 'em, or die tryin'."

Remy paused at the zealous tone that was very uncharacteristic of his flippant cousin. "Die tryin'." he repeated softly.

"You've got a good thing goin' on with this gal. Trust me, Ah'm married. Ah know." Etienne smiled and swallowed the last half of his glass. Leaning back, he licked his lips and tilted his head toward Remy. "Mmmm. Don't blow it."

Slowly, for reasons that had more to do with fear of bravery than fear itself, Remy brought the glass to his lips and sipped.

Etienne made a face.

Remy tightened his grip on his glass and downed the alcohol in a single gulp.

_WHOOOOO-WEET!_

_RA-RA RA-AA-AAH! ROMA ROMA-MAA! GAGA OOH-LA-LAA! WANT YOUR BAD ROMANCE!_

"What the living hell..." Etienne grinned in pure amusement and extinguished his cigarette. "Yeah, _Chéri_?"

Remy figured that if Bella was calling Etienne, Rogue must be calling him. He slipped out his cellphone and didn't look at the Caller ID. "Yeah, _Chéri_? ... Eh? Damn it. _What d'you want, John? _... Ow, my ear ..."

"... Ah can't... You alright? ..." Creases appeared on Etienne's forehead.

"... John, slow down, stop shouting! ... Who's that screaming then, eh? ..." Remy frowned. That sounded like Wanda yelling Rogue's name over and over again.

"... What about Rogue? ..."

"... Yeah, Ah can hear you. What's up with Rogue? ... What? ... _WHAT_?"

"Rogue's been _what_?"

Remy took his ear off the cellphone for a split moment to make eye contact with Etienne, who was evidently on the same line of conversation. Etienne shrugged and they turned away together.

"What. The. _Fuck_. Are you tryin' t'say, John? ... What army? ... Ah asked _what fuckin' army?!!_"


	23. A New Life

**Living the X-Men Life**

He saw the blue glow around her hands, he knew the shove was coming, but he wouldn't stop her. Not for the world.

"Wanda!" he yelped as his back came in painful contact with the brick wall. "Oh, baby..."

Two of her graceful arm swings later, his arms and legs were pinned at his sides. His feet were firmly planted on the ground. The only thing she left flexible about him was his neck and head, which he knew she kept safe from smashing on the wall.

Pietro, Lance, Fred and Toad had thrown him out of the window when they couldn't take the noise-making anymore. For that, she attached them (by no gentle means) to the ceiling and walls with bits and pieces of junk lying on the floor. Toad was a special case: he was hung on the fan and the Scarlet Witch ensured he spun at 240 miles per hour. When she was done, she picked John up and they took the jeep. But the jeep died on gas along the way. They dumped it and now he found himself alone in an alley with his very crazy, very unpredictable girlfriend.

He licked his lips exaggeratedly, expectantly.

They had done this before. Many, many times. In a bout of pure cruelty, Wanda wanted him as nothing more than her toy one night. She didn't want him running his hands all over her or doing wonders to her body or kissing her senseless until the furniture started moving. She wanted full control.

So using her inescapable powers, she immobilised him on the bed, only releasing his head so she could kiss his brains out. Torture is what it must be called. He was absolutely dependant on her choices. And she chose to go slow.

Her lips knew where to travel. Her teeth brought him to the threshold of pain. Her tongue made him sweat so hard he screamed in desperation. He couldn't grip the sheets for release. He jerked and squirmed while she took a stroll around the room, tipping his drawers upside down looking for rubber. When she finally sheathed him, he wasn't on earth anymore.

Although moments like that are better in private, John really couldn't care who was watching what they were gonna do. A notably sinister grin crept upon her pale features. She stepped closer. She pressed onto his body. Her hands laced themselves behind his neck to pull his face down to hers. Her hot breath filled his world before her lips did.

For the briefest _damned_ moment.

A female yelling echoed through the alley. "NO! What – Let meh' go! Get your hands off meh'...! Ohmah'God, Bella! Call Remy! CALL –"

She dropped him.

He knew that voice; there weren't many Southerners wandering Bayville as far as he knew.

"Holy shit. That's Rogue." Wanda whispered, genuine fear showing all over her face before she ran in the direction of her friend's yells for help.

At the opposite end of the alley was a sizable dark green truck-van-law-enforcement-transport-vehicle thing, with reinforced glass, double layers of wire mesh and all the works meant to keep the most dangerous criminals in. Men in a similar shade of green and bearing all sorts of firearms were patrolling the street and eyeballing anything on two legs. The emblem on the sides told John to stay far, far away unless he wanted the official army of the U.S. laser-spotting his ass.

"BABY!"

John ran, threw his arms around Wanda and tried to yank her away before she redesigned the truck to her nightmarish imagination. There was Rogue – hands locked in a block before her, struggling violently and being man-handled into the back of that truck-van-thingy. And there was a blonde looking in their direction, her stare vacant. One medal-laden officer had approached her and was talking to her. She turned her glare on him and must have given the commander a satisfactory reply because he marched to the van-truck with an arrogantly victorious smirk on his face.

Under him, Wanda was hissing and twisting and trying to hit him while he barely remained attached to her back, cautious not to let her hands go at all costs.

"Rogue's getting napped! Get the _fuck_ off me!!!"

"SHHHHHH! U.S. Army. Not good!"

"She's in trouble, dammit John! Don't make me –" She bent down and sank her teeth into his hand.

He gripped her tighter. "_Yeow!!!_ Don't be the bloody hero!"

The soldiers turned to the commotion that was them. John grinned. _We must look like victim and rapist. And I'm said rapist_. Why then, wasn't the Protectors of the People coming to Wanda's rescue?

He peered closer at the commander's face. That grey streak of hair at the sides of his head. The Hitler-like moustache. Square jaw. Double-chin.

As suddenly as the squad had come and spread havoc on the street, they had packed up and gone, disappearing around the bend.

"DAMMIT!" Wanda screeched as soon as he let her go. She whirled around and fiercely started pounding her small fists on his chest. "Damn it, John!"

Lady Luck didn't make Wanda a trained martial artist (neither was he) and after much flapping and slapping of hands, he caught her wrists and tried to talk some sense into her.

"The irony." he muttered.

"What?! _WHAT?_ Rogue's just been arrested by some government ass-fucker and you didn't let me stop them! _Why didn't you let me stop them?!_"

"Look, you do your hocus-pocus on them, you'll be in that damned van too and what am I gonna do, _hmmm? _Wait for my turn and hope I get thrown in the same cell as you? Fuck, I've lost enough to the freakin' mutant-hunters, alright?"

She stopped trying to pull away.

"I'm gonna call Remy. Rogue wanted to call Remy, right? So we'll call Remy."

He pulled out his phone and put it on loudspeaker.

The conversation was light-hearted and enjoyable until vehicle screeched to an ear-piercing halt right next to them. Bella stopped in mid-sentence to put down her coffee cup and made a quick scan of the whole gig. Needless to say, it was just another closed land army vehicle. No licence plate or identification number. Whoever they came for is _fucked_, big time.

The doors flew open and a stout, moustached commander came strutting from the front with his soldiers pouring out the back like roaches on the prowl. He approached them with four men guarding his medal-decorated ass. Bella instinctively fingered her waist where her handgun was and casually toyed with a pair of sunglasses, just in case she had a bloody need to hide her identity from innocent, law-abiding passersby. She glanced at Rogue, who had leaned back and was removing a glove.

The Hitler-imitation unfolded a piece of paper and presented it ceremonially. He cleared his throat. "Anna Marie Darkholme."

Bella shot the young lady sitting across her. Rogue had straightened up, her eyes widened in rude shock and alarm. Her throat was flexing with held breath.

_So that's her real name_. Bella slipped on her sunglasses.

"Y-Yeah?" Anna Marie Darkholme murmured.

"You're to come with us. We've a warrant for your immediate arrest and you'll do well to just put that glove back on. Any mutant tricks and we have a second warrant for the immediate closure of the Xavier Institute. Am I clear?"

"What the hell did Ah do?" she barked, slipping her glove on regardless.

"Don't worry. We'll send a letter down to them today as well. Assuring them you're in the best of health. Which you should be, provided you cooperate."

Bella stood up with her fist on her handgun butt, posing as if she was merely playing bossy. "Sir, there's some mistake. My name's Celine and Anna's under my guardianship. Ah can assure you she hasn't been out of the Institute for the last three weeks."

The commander's moustache twitched and he smirked. "Ma'am, you're name's Bella Donna and I could easily have a warrant for the extinction of the Assassins as well."

The future head of said crime family stiffened her back and clenched her jaw. Who was she to stand for? Her family, the people who truly cared and loved her, or Rogue? The answer was too clear. It almost tore her heart out but it was the only logical solution. She let her hand drop to her side. She removed her sunglasses and stared across the street. Some random scene was playing out between a goth girl in a coat and a orange-haired man.

"Very clever of you though." commented the commander. His grin was had the same effect as spitting in her face. He snapped his fingers.

Bella glanced at Rogue, hoping she reflected a world of apology in her eyes.

Rogue was forced onto her feet and two soldiers clapped a chunky container around her entire forearm. The encasement was more than likely a precaution against her mutation. The gal was nothing like quiet. If anything, she was making things harder for Bella than they already are. Remy had the potential to get angry. She sighed through her nostrils. Today, she would get to see just how _angry_ that man could get.

She raised her chin. "Officer. Ah'm gonna find out who you are. Ah'm gonna find out where you live and who you love. Ah suggest you guard your balls tonah'te, and every nah'te from now on."

"Pleasure to meet you ma'am." he answered gaily.

Bella Donna watched them leave, staring after the dust kicked up by the speeding vehicle. Mechanically she pulled a fifty from her wallet and put the bill under the saucer. She walked away, the sounds of an argument from the other side of the street filtering through her ears. She whipped out her cellphone and hit the speed dial.

"Etienne... Etienne... When Ah said someone was tailin' us on the road, Ah was right. It's the fuckin' String-Pullers... No Ah'm fine. You can tell Remy Rogue's gonna get bent ova' the table... Ah said Rogue's in deep shit... She's been arrested... Arrested. The Muscles have her... Pick me up _now_... Ah'll be in four blocks east where you left meh'."

Remy refused to let Etienne drive.

Wordlessly, he sat himself in the driver's seat and with single-minded determination, treated the traffic lights to his own rules. Green signalled "Go fast". Orange said "Go faster". Red was only a suggestion.

Etienne sat in the back seat quietly. Knowing his cousin's habits and nature, Remy the Joker of the pack would be grinning and saying stupid witty nonsense. Remy the Ace kept his lips sealed tight.

Remy swerved the car to park by Bella's feet and the smell of rose perfume filled the air swiftly. He jerked the Jag into start.

"What happened." It wasn't a question. He had also reverted to his milk tongue, French.

"The commander had a warrant. U.S. seal, stamped and signed by String-Puller of Defence. The Letter was thick and off-white – Puller's paper. He had all the medals and knots o'honour, but he's too studded t'be the real thing. Ah think he's playin' Area 51 games."

"Area 51 games don't bite your ass directly." Etienne muttered.

"Well, it's something big and official." Bella countered. "Remy, Ah think they're mutant-hunters."

Remy let slip a dark chuckle. "Bella, what was your first clue. The fact they took Rogue or the fact that they're government?"

"You don't have t'use her code name, Gambit." she said gently, pulling herself to speak into his ear. "They told meh'."

Remy nearly braked on impulse. He gripped the wheel harder and stepped on the gas. He didn't even know her real name. Meanwhile some bastards have it on paper. The second thing he was hiding from; the next thing he needed to avoid; the last thing he wanted getting its claws around her. They found her. Now they've taken her.

For the second time that day, he asked, _Why'd they wait?_ Rogue's a well known face in the mutant world, thanks to the media. Why didn't they storm the Institute long ago and taken her? Why now, when he found her for himself, they decide to swoop down and whisk her away to their magical laboratories?

They don't know whose ass they just bit. _Ha ha_. They DON'T KNOW whose ass they just bit!

A shaking hand on his shoulder yanked him back to reality. "Remy! Bella said you can drop yourself off at the mansion. We ain't gettin' involved. Not personally. But if you need anything, we could –"

"Heard o'Bolivar Trask?" He cut Etienne off.

"Yeah. Experimentalist. Hates mutants. Sentinels and shit. Ah read up on him for your sake."

"Sat in School. Released t'stop that Apocalypse." Bella added and gave an account of what happened.

"Yeah. Trask was probably that commander asshole." Remy muttered.

"Funny he should be doin' the ground work with his boy band." noted Etienne.

"Fundin'? Trust? Don't matter." Bella answered. "What's your plan, Remy? Ah promised the fag you'll replace his eyes with his balls."

"Good enough."

The timing couldn't be any more convenient. If God wanted entertainment, He got a Grammy-winning show right here in a speeding Black Jag. He drank the toast. He kissed her lips. He had touched the ass that is in trouble. By hell, give him a jet and a full deck of cards and the White Devil will get a saviour's job done.

He stopped at the Institute's gates, as Etienne requested. The latter and his fiancée stepped out of the car when Remy did.

"Remy."

Said person turned toward the hand on his shoulder. Etienne spread his arms invitingly and they embraced like men.

"You take care of your-fuckin'-self." He pulled back and grinned. "Ah wanna see you at my weddin'. You bein' dead or in School ain't no excuse for my best man."

"_Merci_, Etienne." Remy stretched his mouth in an attempt to look light-hearted.

"You've got that look." Etienne chuckled. "If Ah were Trask, Ah'll say my pra'ers and dig my grave 'bout now."

"Ahhh, ain't X-Man style."

"Oh, yeah. You're the one o'the good guys now." He slapped Remy on the arm. "Blessin' and wisdom unto you."

"What hell." Remy grinned. "Good tithin' and all that jazz for a happy marriage."

When they finally parted, he fixed gazes with Bella a little warily. He managed to smile pleasantly at last. "Want a piece o'meh'?"

She bared her teeth in a wide smile and wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned the closeness as the perfume invaded his senses and the curls tickled his nose. When she released him, she placed a hand on his right cheek and lightly kissed his left.

"Take care, good luck. Keep your brains _here_, _d'ac_?" She tapped the side of his head.

They drove off, waving.

He sighed. He was standing outside a gate. Alone. The scenery was a little brighter and cooler than before, during a time when he didn't even have five bucks to his name or a place to call home. He shook the memory of the bayou from his hazel head and scaled the fence: to a new misadventure, a new mission.

To a new life.

_Rogue, or whatever your real name is, _mon Chéri_, Ah'm comin' for you._


	24. Kiss My Ass

**the idea was nagging my brain since the last chapter. but my fingers and my brain werent on speaking terms for awhile because my ears decided to break them up. am i making sense?**

**haha well BIG THANK YOU FOR READING and enjoy!**

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Living the X-Men Life 24

_Oh Rogue, Ah'm sorry._

He hopped right into the Professor's office and told the story to silent Xavier, concerned Ororo and, well, Logan.

At the end of it, Ororo gave him a decent glass of water that he downed in one gulp and the Professor was rubbing his temples. Logan had his back to everyone and staring out the window.

Remy bit the inside of his cheek. He knew the Professor's gesture too well from watching Jean-Luc. His foster father had hired a professional head masseuse when Remy grew to be a teenager with too many thieving ideas. By then, he was a man too old to be whipped but still a boy with very itchy fingers. Today was no different: Xavier was vexed, anxious, frustrated and if he weren't wheelchair bound, would shove Remy off the cliffs himself.

A lifetime ago, as a little boy, Remy would currently be standing, bent over, pants down and Jean-Luc whipping his backside until it stopped feeling good.

He had to force himself not to shuffle his feet as he waited for the Professor's judgement.

"Indeed, it's a fine mess."

Remy considered asking what he planned to do about it, but on second thoughts, decided the Professor had asked himself that already.

"What do you suggest we do, Remy?" He had his fingertips together and his bare forehead was lined.

Remy twirled the empty glass and peered up with his elbows on his knees. He swept aside his floppy hair and proposed the plan he had entertained on the way up. "Takin' Rogue under their noses ain't gonna bring forces to our door. The world is watchin' us nah'te and day. They can't try this trick again 'less they want some publicity. If they wanna stay secret, they gotta leave us alone. And it's embarassin' 'nough t'get your skirts blown up the first time. Trask ain't comin' for a second fling."

"Steal her back. So you expect me to dispatch you my jet and a team of my students to steal Rogue out of a place unknown, in a condition unknown, under circumstances unknown?"

Remy didn't expect Xavier to have that much sarcasm in him. As a matter of fact, he didn't know Xavier had sarcasm in him. "No, Professor. Ah can get in there and out, alone, easy. The jet – it's gonna be a lil'hard t'make a fast getaway on a bike. Ah just need a lead. Leave the rest t'meh."

"You'll be lookin' fer' Area 51. Fancy desert spot." Logan didn't turn around but he folded his thick arms. "Ah've been there before. Rogue too – that one fah'ne time you Acolytes set us up on a blind date with a Sentinel. Not your fault _of course_, it was all part of Magnus's grand plan. To what damn end, would you know?"

Remy let his lip flatten to the side at that clear accusation. Old scars need not be picked. "Ah remember." he replied delicately.

Ororo swung one leg across the other and crossed her arms. She turned to Xavier. "X-Jet. Remy, one or two others, Logan and I."

Remy brightened up instantly and opened his mouth to thank the suddenly extraordinarily beautiful African American woman.

"Yes and no." Xavier drummed his fingers on the table. "Yes, a small, elite team is in order. Make it quick and quiet. But replace with Piotr. And let's not wait for that letter, though I doubt at all of its coming."

"You've got t'let meh' on!" Remy stood up in panic. He couldn't sit this fight out! Not if the last word Rogue said was his name!

"You're not going. Storm, Logan, you'll take Piotr with you. The three of you can make it."

Remy stared aghast, his mouth slightly hanging. The Professor could have done little better by just bitch-slapping his face. "This for real or some kind o'joke?"

"Oh, it's a _real joke_." Logan turned around.

If Remy possessed the strength to crush thick glass with his bare hand, Xavier would have lost quite a fine piece of crockery. He glanced between all three faces. Ororo seemed to have a word at the tip of her tongue and Remy fixed her with a pleading gaze. She broke away. He almost choked on a throat suddenly gone dry.

Alone.

He saw a fact that should have been as apparent as a slim bikini-clad lady on a sunny beach. You would give her an eye and pass her by. It's a camouflaged enough sight, but is a sight nonetheless. Now, the lady has Remy by the collar and she's not letting go until he takes notice her.

When he first came around, he was poked and prodded from all sides. He refused to part his history to them. It was probably a test of trust and reliability when Xavier made him teach. He lowered his face away from the Professor. Perhaps he passed it? Perhaps he hadn't. Then that ridiculous poisoning case that needn't have happened anyway. Maybe he should never have played that little joke on Scott and Jean. Maybe if he answered the door more politely? Maybe if – hell.

He shook his head to himself. Piotr was welcomed with wider opened arms than he was from the start. One ex-Acolyte over the other. The unwilling player over the eager hired mercenary. Of course.

Looking back, who was on his side of the story?

It didn't take long for one solitary name to surface. A heavy lump dragged at his chest that no sigh could relieve. It was his fault the whole time. He couldn't see any other chance in a million god-damn years that Trask would swoop down and take her. His name was on that bastard's capture list ever since that old warehouse was stormed and all of Erik's files and data and god-knows-what-that-had-Remy LeBeau-written-in-it were taken. He ran because he knew he was fucked for life. He can't run today, not while she is –

He forced his brain to find another name, another person! The kids would sit next to him at the table, right? But if he were to mysteriously vanish tomorrow, will they tear the earth apart looking for him? He barely felt himself standing there, speechless.

The question doesn't have to be asked to gain an answer.

It's all his fault. And _they_ won't let him do anything about it.

A small voice at the back of his head chuckled, _A new life, eh? A new fuckin' life!_

Remy would have laughed along in frustration if not for the three people really pissed with him surrounding him.

Slowly, deliberately, summoning all his self-control, he took a step back. Then a second step. Then a third. There was more dignity in self-dismissal.

He shuffled toward the exit, took one last glance before he yanked the door open.

Big, old Piotr's chest was in his face. The giant had his hand outstretched for the knob in that awkward goofy way. He offered his gentle smile to the man who, for a flicker of a second, hated the world about him.

_But, hey_. He didn't have to hate anybody. Not Piotr. Not Logan. Not even Trask needed a mark. He was Gambit, wasn't he?

He returned the dear Russian an ear-to-ear grin, graciously stood to the side to let him in and strolled away, shutting the door behind him.

If her name was the only name, then she is worth it.

When Piotr found Remy as he was instructed to, the latter had shredded yesterday dinner's leftover chicken into a pan and was slicing garlic. He knew Remy had sharp hearing, but the sulky fellow refused to turn around.

He cleared his throat. "I – er, thought I might find you here."

Remy stayed quiet.

"You've been offended, I know. And very _pissed_, in fact."

The knife moved a little swifter.

"Are you angry at me?"

He flicked the garlic into the pan and stirred as if nobody was there.

"Remy."

"What?" He turned around, fixing Piotr with a half-lidded glare.

Piotr flinched inwardly. He expected Remy to clench his jaw; however, he didn't foresee how he'd feel about it. He was the Russian the thief helped smuggle out of trouble less than a month ago, now wearing a very different, very official-looking uniform. Even his belt had the shiny yellow 'X' for a buckle.

Remy spun away.

"Piss. Off." He punctuated those words with banging off what stuck on the wooden spatula.

Piotr merely croaked, "I said no."

There was a silence as Remy slowly rotated back on his heel, suspicion and confusion flitting across his face. "What?"

"I turned them down."

"Why? This's your chance t'prove you're X-Men material. Ah'm gonna impress 'em with my cookin', or poison 'em."

"That's not you. And it's not me to... steal. I'll be stealing, Remy. Against you. I won't do it."

Remy visibly took a breath and turned off the stove. "Then who's going?"

"Summers."

Remy put a hand on his stomach and fake-puked, making the bigger man chuckle, though nervously, unsure if Remy intentionally being funny. Remy looked back up with a thin smile that held more pain than pleasure.

He seemed to ponder it for awhile before shrugging, "You go."

"You cannot mean that." Piotr gaped, unable to believe that conniving Gambit _shrugged_. "You don't –"

"Ah don't want Rogue gettin' fucked sideways more than Ah want t'pluck the balls that did her, alrah'te?"

Piotr recoiled at Remy's use of creative vulgarities. "I can... There could be a way to sneak you on board."

Remy scoffed. "He'll sniff me out. 'Sides, they sent you t'check on me, didn't they?"

Piotr swallowed that dropped hint on him being a lackey. "I volunteered. Someone else would have done a more... complete job."

Remy's eyebrows jumped before he resumed grinning. "Ahhh. Nah'ce try."

Piotr humbly took that as a 'thank you'. "I'll put in a good word for you." Remy tilted his head in question. "I have to report how this talk went."

"_D'ac_."

Piotr left him and made his way to the X-Jet launch pad, where Ororo was in some intense conversation that required much gesturing on her part. The place was only half lit on one side of the X-Jet while the other was plunged into an eerie darkness. They halted all discussion as he approached.

He took a casual soldier's stance with his hands by his side. "I talked to Remy and he allows me to replace him."

Ororo's thin eyebrows rose in surprise and the Professor looked taken aback, "That's... very modest of him. Anything else?"

"He would rather Rogue saved as soon as possible than waste time arguing for a position. That's Remy for you." He decided against mentioning Remy's colourful tongue.

The Professor nodded in consideration and launched into a briefing. Piotr listened with more sobriety than required; two years had done little to reduce the impression of briefing under Magneto.

Logan appeared just as Xavier finished. "Chuck, Earth Day's over. What's with the lights?"

"The main fuse had popped. I've already assigned Hank to repair it. Do you need full-lights to launch?"

Logan looked insulted. "Ah need you t' get the door openin'."

Then the three assigned to the mission boarded the X-Jet. Piotr had never set foot in the aircraft before, but he was certain it should not smell like a lady's beauty parlour. The perfume that invaded his nostrils had a fresh exotic scent, something like –

"Ororo!" Logan coughed and picked up a deep purple glass vial that was lying on one of the seats.

"Well, I don't agree with your sweat smells either!" She took the vial from him and set it in a side cabinet. "Jean borrowed it from me last week. I wonder why she left it here."

"Hell with it. We're burning daylight, let's get flyin'. Strap up, Colossus."

He sat himself behind Ororo, who took the co-pilot's seat next to Logan. "How long to the Area?"

"Three, four hours tops. Depends on the weather..." Logan replied as the roar of the engine resounded in everyone's ears.

In fifteen minutes, the roar dissolved into a droning vibration.

They sat in companionable silence for half the journey until Piotr felt he needed to voice himself. "Should Remy have come?"

Ororo twisted around with a small smile. "What do you think, Piotr?"

"He should be given the chance to make his mistakes right."

"And screw it all up."

Ororo gave Logan a disapproving glare. "He's professional in what we're about to do, at the very least!"

"He will. It's a personal issue with that boy. He won't listen to anybody or stick to the plan. Ah've been there, Ah know."

"Yes, you've been there. You've been given the chance to _learn_. Give and give alike, please!"

"Ah'm not takin' chances with Rogue!"

"Hmmm! whose personal issue is it, now?"

"Today ain't a day for learnin'."

Piotr interrupted unflinchingly. "When we were under Magneto, Remy slots personal agendas into everything he did. But he gets the job done."

"We're not flyin' 30'000 feet to steal an Egyptian bug. Or recruit dumbasses livin' in a run-down house."

"Mesmero hypnotised him to steal that one time." Piotr defended.

Ororo smiled again. "Kidnapping, we all know how successful he is in that field."

"Rogue escaped." Logan replied.

Ororo shook her head. "He untied her himself. She willingly went along."

"Sounds like him." Piotr could almost see Remy flipping through Magneto's files on the X-Men right that moment. Under the guise of research, he had caught the Cajun visibly spending more time on one particular page.

"How long has he had this infatuation?" Ororo asked.

Piotr rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Er..."

The sound of an airtight door latch being thrown back was swiftly followed by the hydraulic hiss of the automated door. Instantly Piotr was on his feet and morphed into his metallic form to prevent any airborne accident from happening. Behind him, Storm had unbuckled herself but upon laying eyes on the figure that stepped in, remained in her seat.

"Everyone can relax. Gambit," The mouth stopped moving to break into a wide grin. "Is here."

Professor Xavier wheeled over to Hank who was in front of the electrical fusebox, jovial about something in his huge furry hand.

"So what's the damage done?" Xavier smiled casually in return. Electrical fizzes were the most of the Institute's problems and were the easiest to fix. There was nothing out of the blue about it.

Hank smiled and stood aside. He opened the panel to the electrical cabinet wider.

What Xavier saw was a burst circuit board and black scorch marks on the panel area opposite it. The corresponding wires were dangling outward, their ends split by explosion and a couple of sparks spat at him.

"Sabotage." he sighed. He shouldn't have taken Colossus's report so assuredly. "Only one suspect."

"Well," Hank said with mirth. "At least he's honest about it, and about his opinion of us."

He opened his hand, palm up to reveal a playing card. On it was the picture of a Joker in a very unusual posture. The character was standing with wide planted legs, bent over so he was grinning between his legs and his backside was in the observer's face. The line 'No offence' was scribbled on the side.

"I think the phrase this represents is 'Kiss my ass'."

"Yes." Xavier massaged the bridge of his nose. "We just did."

"You're not going to call them back?"

"And waste rescue time?" Charles shook his head and smiled despite himself. "He's playing us at our own game. We'll let him have his victory. He earned it well."

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**Like? don't like? review! =D**


	25. Rescue is no Party

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**So! i expected to write a typical rescue scene. a plan, a precise execution of the job, romeo saves his juliet... or does he?**

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**Living the X-Men Life**

Remy was feeling very good about himself as he revealed himself to three pairs of ears. Despite the creaking in his knees and the tension in his calf and thigh muscles, not to mention his numbed backside, he felt from head to toe every inch the marvellously devious Gambit. The last time he felt this good was when Rogue _didn't_ throw him out of the boxcar and called him crazy.

_Oh. Rogue. Hang in there, Chéri, wherever the hell 'there' is._

That lumpy sentiment was weighing down his chest again, so he took a deep breath and discharged all heartfelt emotions.

"Ororo, take the controls." growled Wolverine.

She folded her arms and smiled. Remy felt his grin getting bigger.

Logan threw his hands in the air for a moment of irritation. The plane wobbled and threw Remy off-balance while Piotr un-metallised and clung onto a seat.

Remy experienced an undignified landing on his arse, which barely felt anything.

"Ah would put this bird on autopilot and beat the livin' crap outta you," Logan continued. "But Ah suppose that'll do for now. And wherever you squeezed yourself in, Ah'm sure you got some good cramps in places you never knew."

Remy stood back up and stretched backwards, creating a gratifying series of popping noises along his spine. To rub it in, he gave a satisfied sigh. "Ahhh..." He vigorously popped his neck as well. "Mmmph... You're right. Ah feel terrible."

"Where _were_ you hiding?" asked Ororo, concern lacing her lightly amused, melodious voice.

"In a place. On the plane."

Piotr just smiled.

A sudden cruel idea came to Remy. He rubbed the numbness out of his butt casually. "You know, a certain Russian recruit – Ah won't name him – had the same idea."

"Eh?" The unnamed Russian stared Remy down from his full height, not menacingly but in alarm.

Logan snorted.

Ororo regarded the two men like boys with their hands in the cookie jar. "Why didn't you then?"

"Won't look nice on his record." Remy shrugged out of his trench coat. _Meanwhile my record is probably black with little white marks._ "Blame _me_ for bein' here."

Ororo turned to Logan. The man drummed his fingers on the control handles for a couple more seconds.

"Alright, bub." he grunted. "You've earned a space on this mission. Grab a chair."

Remy settled himself in one of the cushy seats and dumped his coat on the other. After wedging himself in a box two sizes too small, he was more than comfortable. "You got a plan?"

"It's nighttime when we get there." Ororo replied. "I'll create a sandstorm and you three will land the Jet in the mountains."

Remy toyed with the tuft on his chin. "Sandstorm. Every guard will move inside. You, uh, doubling up security for 'em?"

"I'll calm it as soon as you land. As the soldiers come pouring out, you sneak in."

"There'll be confusion. People movin' everywhere." added Wolverine. "Not t'mention slackin'. Nothin' lah'ke a minor natural disaster t'put a soldier in a lazy state o'mind. And if enough sand moves around, more soldiers inside will get moved out t'shovel it off the roads."

"Then what?"

Logan spared him a brief glance of impatience. "We go in, get her and get out."

"You ain't got no plan for that part?"

For an answer, Piotr handed him a large blueprint map. The entire Area 51 facility. Clearly labelled in small white prints were the different halls, corridors, rooms, laboratories, offices and _facilitation cells_. The functions of the latter were obvious. He peered at the legend.

"Great." Remy folded the map like three week old newspaper. "2000 cells."

"East cells for fresh meat. The bigger the number on the door, the fresher the meat." Logan said. "West for old timers that survive whatever experiments Trask put 'em through. South is the dorm, lounge, canteen. North is for paperwork, weapons storage, security rooms."

Remy took up the map again. "You left out the heart o'the place."

"Hopefully we won't find Rogue in there." Ororo turned to regard him, this time with a distraught expression.

Remy clenched his jaw shut and forced his attention on the white printing. The rest of the journey was spent in silent memorizing.

...............................................................................

She gradually blinked her eyes open, the images transmitting into her brain barely registering. Her curled body was twitching uncontrollably and her hands were clenched. She was shivering.

What was minutes felt like hours spent in a refrigerator. Finally, her blood managed to warm some life into her fingers and she flexed them, running them over her arms stiffly.

Something pulled against her skin. Something her fingers bumped into. Something soft and rough and spongy. She strained her neck to look at it.

A surgical bandage was strapped to her upper arm with a dry gauze attached. Medication cream wafted from it. Now why would she need a bandage? And why was there a plaster on her wrist?

She pushed herself into a sitting position and immediately regretted it. Her head spun and her vision swirled in nauseating directions. Finally she made the acquaintance of the cushioned floor after bouncing off the edge of the bed. She groaned and held her head as stars joined the many other colours before her eyes.

"Sh...sss...astrong...nnn..."

The nasal voice sounded distant to her ears, which felt like they were stuffed with cotton fluff. She swallowed. The 'pop' was a relief.

"A strong one, yeah. Says here she kept shoving and kicking off soldiers until they had to sedate her, twice."

"Looks real nice in the shorts though."

"Her white skin freaks me out."

"It, Jim, it."

The 'it' had enough brain power in her to comprehend her surroundings. When the world stabilised under her, she lifted her head. A white room, cushioned walls and floor and ceiling (as if she were a mental patient) and a hanging bunk bed with its edges blunt. Even the door was cushioned except for a transparent slot above the handle. Peering through the slot were two pairs of eyes, the faces covered by surgical masks and hairnets. She felt like an animal in a zoo. A very freezing cushiony zoo.

"Uhhh..." she muttered.

One pair of eyes turned to the other. "Well what's beneath that shirt says it's a she."

"Ha!" The pair of eyes that remained on her examined her closer. She could see they were brown. "Hmmm. It's cold." He shooed his colleague away and fiddled with something beside the door. "Raising _facilitation cell _number 091 temperature by two degrees..."

"I think they're Bs." The other pair of eyes returned to the peering slot. She noted their sky-blue irises.

"We've got all her measurements down. They're Cs. The uniform's _meant_ to cover her up. Now could you take notes on her behavioural anomalies? Do your job!"

_Were they – Are they talkin' 'bout mah' breasts?_ Rogue heaved herself to sit up and flip the bird at Blue-Eyes.

Blue-Eyes eyebrows jumped up. He turned to his notepad. "Subject responds to anatomy discussion by gesturing rudely."

"You didn't really write that, right?"

Blue-Eyes clicked his tongue. "Tch. No! Look, unlike the rest, the only thing freaky thing about her is her skin. Another freaky thing is what she's like in bed."

"How does that happen, Einstein?"

"Heh, Einstein would probably be very pissed with us, Richie. We'll have to ask that boyfriend of hers what she's like under the sheets. If we ever catch him."

"Slippery bastard that." Brown-Eyes eyeballed her very warily and pulled Blue-Eyes away from the slot.

_Remy._ She mouthed his name for her lack of voice. _Remy, where are you?_

A cold fear hit her like a jolt to her gut. Where was she? What have they done to her? What else are they gonna do to her?

She jerked her attention to her arm. The plaster on her wrist meant it had been pierced - for her blood sample maybe? If... Then... Why would they need to wrap her arm in a bandage like a war wound? The skin underneath felt prickly now. And itchy.

She picked at the edge of the bandage and peeked beneath. The bandage was clinging tight to her. She picked at the tapes that held it and managed to peel back a millimeter worth of sticky.

The pain that erupted from tearing open flesh from gauze brought her voice back in a howling scream. She let go and hissed, biting her tongue down. She clutched at the wound and gingerly patted the bandage back into place. She smoothened the gauze down as if her shaking fingers could restore skin where it was missing.

Blinking back tears, Rogue bared her teeth and got onto her feet. She wobbled over to the slot and clung onto the cushions for support. Her fingertips' skin pinched: her nails had recently been clipped shorter.

.............................................................................

Just as Storm promised, her weather predictions emptied the facility of two thirds of its military party. While she kept a weather eye out for any exterior alarm, the three men snuck inside, though it was more of a squeeze for Piotr. Remy crawled forward first and made adjustments to the air vents that led to the security control room.

Piotr quietly crashed into the room and took the two guards on duty by sizable surprise. Sleeping soundly because of his fists, he sat them back in their chairs, cleaned up their coffee spillage and began working on the security cameras. He flipped through screen after screen of each individual _facilitation cell_ until he found one with a white-streaked redhead in it.

He blinked. He rubbed his eyes with two fingers. He stared at her again and slowly pressed the intercom button on the communicator in his ear."Uh, Wolverine. Number 091. But –"

"091, copy." came the slightly static reply. "Good. Block us out when we come runnin' through."

"Block out, copy. But Wolverine..."

"But what, bub?"

"You might not like what you see when you get there."

"Whatthehell are you – Gambit, shove 'em in the locker."

Wolverine gave one groaning soldier a kick in the teeth and the idiot's head lolled about, while keeping his own communicator on talk mode. Gambit was opening a second locker to store away the last three limp bodies.

"Shoved." Gambit muttered and glanced at the security cameras on the ceiling. They weren't the lively spinning tops they usually were, which signified that Piotr had done a good shut-down job.

Wolverine gestured him to keep moving.

They sped around a couple of corners until they heard a yelling.

"Oh shit! OH SHIT! JIM!"

In an unspoken signal, both men halted in their tracks and pressed themselves against the same edge of the wall. Remy shuddered inwardly at their unintentional unison. He stole a glance opposite him. _Facilitation cell 087_. They were close to Rogue, now. So very close...

A pitter-patter of footsteps grew louder and louder until the panting of an unfit man could be heard.

"Get Rogue." Wolverine rumbled into his ear then jumped out before Gambit could have.

Gambit came around a split second later to see that Wolverine had a thick hand around a man's mouth. The victim was flailing his arms in sheer panic as Wolverine slowly, but surely, stopping his oxygen intake. Gambit passed them in a blink.

He kept his eyes on the doors until he found his _091_. He kicked a stungun across the polished floor as he stopped abruptly in his sprint. Although he would never have missed her, since it was the only _facilitation cell _with its door hanging ajar.

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**DUN DUN DUN!**

**=D**


	26. He had It Coming

**So so so so so so so i wanted to update DAYS AGO BUT NO! i couldnt... so now its here! XD ENJOY & REVIEW!**

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Living the X-Men Life 26

A sinking sensation of dread numbed his brains as a rush of questions overwhelmed him. _What happened? How did the door open? Why is the door open? Did she do it herself? WHERE IS SHE?_

"Go, go, GO!" yelled Wolverine, his finger on the communicator on his ear. "She's still inside!"

...

She watched them warily. Brown-eyes 'Richie' and Blue-eyes 'Jim' were standing against the opposite wall facing her direction but currently their notepads were more interesting sights. Behind their surgical masks, they were discussing something very fervently that made Richie gesture with his pen repeatedly. Jim was twirling his. Rogue strained her ears in vain – they were too far away for her to hear anything.

Then Richie pointed at her. The frightened part of her joined pure curiosity in staying put where she was.

Jim scratched his hair-netted head with the tip of the pen. Then he said one last thing to Richie before smacking the other man's backside and started walking toward her door. Rogue noticed something black appear from under Richie's lab coat. She didn't have to peer any closer to send fear deadening the world around her. A stun gun. Logan told her before those things could zap up to 1000 kilovolts. He also told her all about shock batons, that they were preferably used at close range. But she didn't see any black sticks with prongs at the end slinking out of their sleeves.

Just then, Jim put his face close to the glass.

She retreated back a few inches away. Despite the frightened pounding in her chest, she demanded, "What d'yah think you're up to, you yahoo?"

"Now, now, stay nice and quiet." he replied coolly as he fiddled with something out of her narrow range of sight. "And keep your hands to yourself."

"Not if you don't tell meh' what Ah'm doing here." she threatened although she could only think about how screwed she might be.

"Hundreds of guards will come running. Does that answer your question?" He looked up at her and she noticed how pale his own skin was. She guessed he didn't get out of the lab very often.

That could work to her advantage. If these two were big-mouthed bookworms, Richie wouldn't have the balls to pull the trigger or have any fatally good aim. She could kick the gun out of his hand, suck the life out of him then take on unarmed Jim. And guess what? She'll know every inch of this place. Find a launch pad, snag a plane and she's... absolutely unrealistic.

"Now, I want you to sit on the bed like a good little girl and don't even think of making any sudden moves. I don't like what the boys do to mutants who misbehave myself. So do us both a favour."

When she didn't so much as blink, he narrowed his eyes. "Move."

She scowled at him, heart racing. Shit, he meant he wanted to get the door open. What the hell are they gonna do to her? Terror ran through her veins as she mechanically made her way to the only furniture in the small cell.

"Remember, no sudden moves." said Jim.

There wasn't a creak when the ungraspable knob on her side of the door twisted around. She watched and squeezed her toes together nervously. She took up the pillow and held it close.

Meanwhile the two scientists made no ceremony about entering a subject's cell. They walked right in as if they belonged; Richie standing guard (a most unimposing figure) by the door with his stun gun and Jim sat himself next to her. Every inch of skin was covered by rubber gloves, surgical masks and paper white uniform, not to mention the hairnet. The only thing that could possible help her was the skin around their eyes. She'll have to distract them first then. Otherwise anyone can duck a hand to a face.

She leaned away unconsciously.

Jim slowly produced a hand to her. "You'll be fine. Richie and I've decided against directly experimenting substances on your person. It never turns out pretty. All we need is another blood sample."

"So you're gonna drain meh' dry?" She stayed very still.

He waved both his hands theatrically and chuckled, "No no!"

What he didn't know was Rogue had been trained to look out for distractions and she had spotted the injection tube of blue liquid in the flap of his coat when he waved his arms about. The very injection tube he was now reaching for.

"Just that, I think it's better if you're not awake to see the red going out of your veins –!"

He had barely finished his sentence when she threw the pillow at Richie and the stun gun. The standing man toppled out the door, the weapon clattering away. As Jim gawked in surprise she lashed out and grabbed at his blue eyes. She winced in expectation of the usual head-splitting absorption.

A split-second was all it took.

His skin was smooth, like a baby's backside. Her cold fingers drew comfort from touching his warm face. In her haste she had poked his right eye with her thumb. She was using her right hand. Her upper body was twisted to grab at him and her back muscles were protesting. But her head was still perfectly clear.

All confidence drained away, leaving her empty and hollow and shocked. A moment later, a wild panic erupted from her very core. She didn't know what was in that tube. What liquid was blue? Mr. McCoy never taught her what chemical was blue! Would Logan know what poison was blue? Would Jean and Scott know? Would Kitty know? Would Kurt – Kurt was blue!

Jim yelped in pain for his eye. The injection tube was fully revealed in his right hand with his thumb ready for a quick jab.

Mystique... was blue. Now she was red. Red swept away by blue waters. At the bottom of a cliff. Off a cliff side. Near the Institute. Near her home. Near Remy.

Richie was getting back up. He was staring.

Before Jim could jab her arm, she used her same hand on his face to catch his rubber-gloved wrist. He managed to jerk in her weakened grasp. She brought up her other hand and pushed him and his thumb away.

In his struggle, he had leaned forward as she pushed the needle away. Rogue didn't have time to recoil before the thin metal found its way into his throat. The hand she used to back her up pressed the pump down and released the blue liquid.

He gurgled – a very unpleasant, wet sound – and his eyes attempted to jump out of his sockets as he collapsed on her. She shoved him off and pulled her hand away, aghast.

"Oh shit! OH SHIT! JIM!" screamed Richie.

But she couldn't pull her eyes away from the man clutching at his throat at her feet. Already the skin around the puncture was turning a bad shade of purple with an intricate web of protruding capillaries. He coughed as if he could hack the chemical out, salivating all over the cushioned floor. His legs were rigid and his torso was twitching violently. He suddenly flipped on his back and arched up, jaw gagging open and eyes riveted on his poisoner.

Her eyes locked with his and she parted her lips in disbelief. A cold impression spread in wisps down her back to her hands. Her grip tightened. The world was a fuzzy white shadow except for the pale face staring right through her. It seemed to grow larger in her vision, coming closer and closer, and closer still, etching itself into her memory.

In another world, a clattering was faint.

She didn't think; her legs recovered faster than her mind did and she ran. She dashed out. Leave the room. Leave the man. Leave that face behind her. Get out of here. Get out. GET OUT!

It wouldn't stop looking at her. Wouldn't stop watching her. Those eyes were blue. Those eyes _are blue. So blue. Too blue._

A dull pain hit the side of her face; pained with the force she ran into it with, dulled by the warm softness of it.

At first she thought she ran into the wall. When it registered to her that walls weren't warm, the wall wrapped itself around her. Her nose picked up cigarettes, musty spandex and a woman's perfume.

Then the wall pulled itself away rather abruptly and held her by her shoulders. She leaned into it. It leaned her head up and the blue eyes dissolved away into another face. A face with red eyes. A face with a moving mouth and strong hands. A face that was –

"Remy..." She felt her lips move but only a breath escaped her lips.

...

A breath of air got pumped out of him when she whammed into his chest. But he couldn't care and threw his arms around her where the thin white shirt covered her and held her tight and close.

"Oh God, you're alright." he whispered into her beautiful, ever fluffy red hair.

But her own arms remained hanging at her sides and she was barely standing on her feet.

He pulled away and was aware that he was holding most of her weight up. Her head flopped down and he pulled her back to him so her face would look into his. "You alright, _Chéri_? Hey, Rogue. Rogue. Look at me. Listen to me."

Her lips moved and a soft warm breath tickled his face.

"We're gonna get outta here. You and me. Now. Can you stand?"

She gazed at him, eyes half-lidded and mouth apart. Suddenly she shuddered and clutched her head. He tightened his hold on her in case she collapsed. Instead she straightened up, turned to the _something_ in her hand (was that a needle?), gasped and stared at her hands. But she didn't let go. He quickly shrugged out of his coat to drape around her. The stare she gave him when she looked up was pure wide-eyed confusion. Her mouth tried to form words and he neared his face to hers as safely as he possibly could, trying to catch her.

Giving up, she gripped at his uniform and buried her face away. That's when he looked up and noticed the man in a lab coat thrashing and gagging noiselessly on the floor, foaming at the mouth. He quickly covered her up, the ends of his coat spreading around her shorter person.

As he was zipping it up, here was a thud like a human body carelessly dropped and Logan came up to them. He glanced into the _facilitation cell_ and back out. "C'mon Rogue. Can you run?"

The slow turn of her head was almost ghoulish. In his arms, her fists tightened themselves and he became worried that the injection cylinder might burst into a splatter of blood and glass.

"Yes." she mumbled.

Wolverine seemed uncertain for a flicker of a second then he gave Remy a hardened eye. "Forget runnin'. You're carryin' her all the way." Then he went inside.

"And you?" Remy did as he was told and took Rogue's bare feet off the ground.

Wolverine had patted the dying man down and produced a notebook and a bottle of blue liquid. These items he shoved into a pocket and was running ahead before the words were out, so Remy followed suit. Rogue remained wide-eyed at nothing in particular.


	27. Powerless

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Living the X-Men Life 27

"Is everyone alright, Logan?"

"Flyin' home without a tail, everybody intact, if that's what you wanna hear. But Chuck, the gal doesn't need a welcoming committee. Especially from Half-Pint and the elf. She got it bad."

"They'll be disappointed." The Professor paused, mulling over the grim faces in his screen. "What do I tell them?"

"Anythin' yah' wanna say, nothin' fancy."

"Let's try to tell the truth."

"Ain't a pretty truth." Logan explained and raised a injection needle to the camera.

Ororo flew the plane while Logan and Piotr were sorting through the papers. There were records on her origins, her education, her mutation, physical abnormities and a test result. A negative test result on her skin sample. Apparently whatever these twisted, obsessed people were looking for, they didn't find it in her mutation. Attached to that result slip was a note, "_no. 09, 15ml_". For that, Logan was particularly interested in the blue liquid, especially when it had produced such unhealthy results on its subject.

Remy was just glad it never touched Rogue.

They sat a few seats away from the trio in conversation, her cold hands covered by his long sleeves, sitting numbly on her lap. It couldn't be that she finally gained control. If she had control, she could turn them on and off as she pleased. But they didn't work when she needed them and now some guy called Jim is dying or dead because she doesn't have control. It's like her mutation decided to pack its bags and jump onto the nearest express train out of her body.

He brought his arms around her waist and turned her hands palm up, slowly massaging life back into them.

It was just half a day. Most of it she spent unconscious. Already she realised how much she missed him. With his body so close to hers, the frost was melting away. The queer smell of medication cream dissolved into the cigarette tinted male scent that was uniquely, and rousingly, his. There was still a trace of Ororo's perfume on him that should annoy her, but the sweet exotic aroma put a tangy flavour in the air between them.

He was murmuring a story in her ear about all the events that led up to him being here. It was genuinely funny. And he was being very gentlemanly about it. Although she didn't laugh or respond to anything he said, he chuckled at himself and commented on his own lines, as if speaking for her. She wanted to attack his lips with everything she got; she wanted to smash something for everything she did.

"He's gonna be dead, isn't he?"

His fingers stopped moving against hers. "It was you or him." he said after a moment.

"Self defence. Yeah. So Ah'm innocent."

"Not all murder's a crime."

"Mmmm." She turned her hands over onto his. What if she were to tell him? What would he say? Can he be able to say she's not guilty, white like a blood-free feather pillow? "Reall'eh?"

"Did you enjoy it? Shoving the juice down his neck?"

A cold sizzle ran down her spine, making the hair stand at the back of her neck. Blue eyes. Jim. Masks. She shook her head. "Then you ain't no murderer, _Chéri_."

His hands gave hers a reassuring squeeze.

_Was she no murderer?_ One soul might disagree. But he's right, she didn't enjoy it. Not this one anyway. She squeezed him back. For that he tightened his hold around her and criss-crossed her arms in the process. His scent began to fill her world. She took a deep breath and felt a careful pressure on the side of her head – he kissed her hair.

"Remy," She bit her lip and wondered if she should continue. "Ah – Ah didn't mean to."

"Shhh..." He ran his hand over her arm.

"Ah – Ah donno if it was them or..." She raised her hands and pulled the sleeves back. Pale bare skin made his hands retreat to her waist.

Then she remembered what it felt like to touch someone again. No memories flashing before her eyes and cramming themselves into her brain space. Her head was wholesome instead of tearing into two or seven pieces. No funny voices in her head telling her what to do or not to do. For that split moment she was only aware of the sensation in her fingertips. Warm face. Roughened skin. A bit of fuzzy sideburn. A squishy, lumpy eyeball. Her powers, were gone.

"'Cause, mayb'eh it could've been different."

"Like what?"

She clenched and unclenched her fists, feeling the creaks in the little joints. She should tell him, tell all of them, something was _damn_ wrong with her. They trusted her. Trusted her so much he was avoiding her skin for both their health's sakes when she was as lethal as a butter knife. But if she did, he'll ask why. She didn't have any answers herself.

She glanced up at him. His lean face was riddled with unease, curiosity, pleasure. However, his eyes were intense with another emotion altogether. Something she couldn't fathom. Of all the revelations that were exposed in the last twenty-four hours, he was still a beautiful mystery. She didn't know what he was really thinking. She didn't know how he'll react if she told him her powers were _gone_. No wait. She knew what he'll do. He'll go wild and desperate and she won't be able to resist those lips. If they weren't careful, there'll be another pregnancy.

Then the next question is, boy or girl? A child. She, a mother. Just a day ago the possibilities were as high as anthills. A mother.

_Her mother_.

_FOSTER mother_. She corrected herself. Just like Remy has a foster father, she had a foster mother.

This, she couldn't tell him. How'd he react to that? She had wanted to do it and she did do it. Once, twice, five times. Then it stopped feeling good. A part of her relished in pleasure, its shady desire satisfied, the other hungered for substance. That's why she went to find him afterwards and stayed with him in that emergency room until that part was happy and the world became brighter. When she retreated into her dark bedroom, the shady desire found its way into her heart again. The darkness wasn't sated. It demanded more pleasure. It wanted _more blood_. Unwillingly, her mind replayed the scene until her eyes closed and it continued airing in her dreams. And it was thirsty still.

"Ah didn't mean t'kill him. But Ah did, didn't Ah?" she sniffed with furrowed brows, blinking fiercely.

She felt the cloth of his coat pull up and he dabbed her eyelids with the collar. "Rogue..."

She caught his hand. No, these aren't tears for him to wipe. Her eyes closed and she leaned into his chest, bringing her own hand to place over his. Through the coat.

He didn't need to know.

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hmmm.


	28. His Last Card

**Those who thought the last chappie was emotional, i hope you like this update. XD uhh im not supposed to be smiling at the moment after writing this, but its both a relief and a heartache to me. like i finally got this chapter off my chest, whew! yay, happy! but shucks, no, not happy im going to have no computer for a week. i'll see if i can update before sunday jumps on me. its a cruelty on you and me both savvy? if i dont update im gonna go insane! i'll share a padded room with pyro and wanda and lose sleep at night to all the noise they make. that will in turn cultivate more madness.**

**thanks. luv you guys! =D**

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He had been here long enough. She needed to snuggle in the sheets without him taking up her air. He slithered his arm from under her, the skill of sneaking out of women's beds coming in handy to keep her in interrupted sleep. She shifted a little from the sudden loss of heat and he pulled the covers to tuck her in. He stepped away from the bed and reluctantly made his way to the door. With his hand hovering over the doorknob, he decided to surrender to curiosity and whirled on his heel back toward her to do the stupidest thing he could ever do. But he reasoned; if it happened once, it could happen again. He kneeled by her bedside and leaned over her albino face. Her eyes were shut, with her chest rising and falling in the way that he knew was light sleeping.

Her face was so cleared, so pale, so smoothened. Without the layers of make-up, her features were laid bare for him to see. Her lips were faintly darker than her pale complexion, though no less appealing. Her plucked eyebrows were a subtle dark, arching line. She had never looked more vulnerable. More beautiful to his eyes.

He had one shot. Licking his lips in a sudden uncertainty he wasn't accustomed to, being a ladies' man and all, he fixed his eyes on the target. If he was wrong, he'd be spazzing his way into a deep coma, and wake up to a very distressed Rogue. For the sake of not knowing the true alternative, he'll still call her by the only name he knew, Rogue.

That made him choose to forgo counting to three. He placed his hands at either side of her head and lowered his. At his closeness, her fine eyebrows furrowed unconsciously and her chin tilted away. Her soft breath moved in wisps against his lips. Slowly, he told himself, carefully... He felt bare skin brush against hers. Immediately he closed his eyes. He froze himself against the upcoming bleeding of his conscience.

But his lips were still against hers.

On the plane, she was so stiff and nervy. He felt like a full-blown idiot talking to himself when probably all she needed was a little closeness. She had something on her mind, something so huge he couldn't figure it out. Then she started tearing on him and he tried to dab them away. He said her name so she knew he was all ears for her. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to sound like he was listening, maybe he should have tried listening! He did, didn't he? Sitting there with her, waiting for her to say something, isn't that considered listening?

She curled up in her seat and fell asleep on his shoulder. An unquiet sleep, it seemed, when she kept shifting and taking deep breaths against his neck. Only the dread of waking her kept him from shuddering in pleasure. That, and any sudden move on his part might trigger her mutation. But his shoulder couldn't lock itself forever and he took the risk to stretch his neck. Her head slipped right off. In pure surprise, he raised a hand to catch her. But she jerked her own head up. His fingertips and her bare cheek had made a brief acquaintance without fatal results. He muddled over it before falling asleep himself.

She was still asleep when the X-Jet arrived in the Institute. Ororo and him were tasked with bringing her up to her room. But after putting Rogue under the sheets, the dear woman allowed him to make his own exit.

He closed his eyes again and pushed forward a little, then a little more until her lips pressed up to his. Warm, they were. Soft, he knew. But just how _sweet_ they really were astounded his senses. And still he was conscious.

He felt her react – a small, jerk of waking up – before responding to him. And he was still standing.

A merciless tirade of flesh-on-flesh lust rushed into his groin, energising the rest of his body and he pushed harder. He'll deal with reasons later. His world was made of her and her luscious mouth. He broke the kiss to climb into her bed. He locked their lips again. He pulled her into his arms and attacked her mouth the way that damned cloth had always prevented him from doing. He could taste her, _the real her_. He broke away for a breath and plunged down again. Wetter. Hotter. He kissed her all over again. Sweeter.

She made a small noise in her throat. His body shivered in return with a groan. God, she was _délicieux_. A smouldering pleasure in all his experience he'd never tasted before.

He wanted more. If her lips gave him that much, what was the rest of her like? The answering thought flashed him the most appetizing images.

"Remy –?" she whispered against his lips, her voice laced with dizzy sleepiness.

Hearing her speak drove him wilder. He growled in hunger, "Rogue...".

"Oh _God!_" she hissed breathlessly.

His heated brain didn't register any pain until he was kissing the dry sheets. Then he felt a different ache throbbing painfully in his groin. He choked, tending to his body with all gentleness. She had given it to him in the nuts and shoved him off her, stumbled out of the bed and was now glaring at him. Her eyes still glittered with desire. Her mouth hung open in horror with kiss-swollen lips. The most wonderful pair of lips.

"You – You crazy bastard!" She gritted her teeth. "What tha' hell yah' think you're doin'?"

"Kissin' you." he mumbled in reply, clutching his abused organ.

Her head shook in exasperation. "Ah' could've killed you –"

"– Ah know." He moaned again.

"You wanna become a veg'table?"

"But Ah'm not."

She stood there in silence. There was a war of responses raging behind her abruptly stony eyes. "You could be."

"But Ah'm not. You didn't absorb me." With a difficulty only males could understand, he ignored the throbbing to push himself up. "Why? And since when?"

She bit her lip and turned away to the wall.

He scowled, "Damn it, Rogue! You've had 'em under control and you didn't tell me?"

She rotated bit by ominous bit, regarding him now with more apprehension than outrage. "Control. You think Ah got control?"

Frustrated, he gestured at the whole situation. "Then what is it?"

"Ah don't know." she mumbled.

"What?"

"Ah don't know!"

"You don't know?" he said, far more petulantly than he intended.

_Big mistake._ She blinked hard and rubbed the back of her hand against eyes; they had started watering. Immediately, all self-righteousness dropped off him like loose rags and he got off the bed. To hold her tight, to wipe those tears away, although he didn't understand why they were there in the first place, _anything_ since they could touch with no boundaries.

"Go away, no!" She tried in vain to push him away.

But he won't be deterred and kept nearing her, catching her feeble hands. Finally he managed to have her in his arms again, though struggling and resistant.

"Remy, no! Let meh' – mmmph!"

He cut her short with a chaste kiss against the wall, telling her to shut the hell up and to trust him both, and everything in between. Her sweetness had dissolved away into a bitter disquiet on his tongue. He closed his eyes and licked her lips gently, pleading entrance. She stiffened for a moment then loosened just a little, offering a petite opening for him. Yet her head tilted back, inviting, pleading in return. She was looking for something, he realised, She needed something.

Unhurriedly, he caressed her lips with his own. He moved carefully over her silky skin. The scent of her femininity was devastatingly intoxicating though her mouth told him a different story. He couldn't restrain her if she didn't want him to. If she didn't want him...

He released her wrists and stepped away.

Her eyes fluttered open. She lowered her hands, sighed and sank to the floor, leaning against the wall for support. Her bare arms wrapped around her knees without a single glance at him.

Not knowing what to do at this point, he stood there for a few more tense moments. He came all the way from the south to the freezing north of Russia then back on a roundabout journey to Bayville. He dropped the Thieves' life. He showed his card hand to the X-Men, he became their substitute teacher on the comical sidelines. This was his last gamble. She was his last card. The one he always saved for last. His Queen of Hearts. His... lucky... lady.

The empty silence screamed in his ears. The room was growing colder.

He guessed this was it. He gambled and he lost.

"Maybe the... Professor could help you." he said quietly.

"Maybe." she replied numbly.

He sighed inwardly. He'll make it easier for the both of them. He took his trench coat off the back of the chair, opened the door and closed it behind him.

...

She withheld her tears for six counts after he closed the door. She would have waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade, but he walked so noiselessly, she couldn't catch them –

– In one leap she was sprawled on her bed. She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed into it. It would get wet and sticky with her tears and snot, she knew, but she couldn't stop. She cried until she could not squeeze another droplet out of her eyes. Her strength was sucked away and she rolled over onto her limp back. There she lay sniffing and coughing, choking on the last hiccups of unfathomable sorrow.

Then she thought she heard an engine igniting. The sounds of crushed gravel and the buzz of a motorbike followed soon after.

She realised she had one tear left.

...

The corridor was pitch dark even with the glass window uncovered. There was no moon tonight, he realised. As he walked down the hallway to his guest room, a small plan formed in his mind. It was logical. Time wasted is money wasted, Jean-Luc said. There are wallets to be picked, drinks to be drunk, cigarettes to smoke and plenty of other girls to love. It's not that he didn't have the charm.

No. The coat flapped onto the bed and he closed his own door. He sank against the oak wood. Hanging one arm over his raised knees, he ran a hand over his face and through his hair. No. Plenty of fuck, nothing to love.

He placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. Taking up his coat, he decided he won't take a towel from them, moving in the dark as he went. It would be like he was never here. He opened the closet and stared at the rack of clothes. Casual wear and the coat. His spandex suit he folded into a crumpled sandwich and stuffed in his inner coat pocket. His belt he still wore around his waist. It matched the boots beneath the jeans.

He paused at the open window sill. Pulling out his full deck as he walked toward the bed, he didn't have to look twice to pick out the two last cards of the pack and slip them under the pillow.

Out the window he went into the moonless night. He thought no one heard his bike move along the driveway, not at this hour. He took the side gate.

He couldn't make it as an X-Men.

Living the X-Men Life 28


	29. All Alone

**yeah. sorry i didnt update before having my computer being taken from me. here we go! another sad chapter. SOMEBODY REQUESTED THAT ROGUE BASH UP TABTHA FOR NO REASON. I CANT REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE BUT I'VE FINALLY GOT IT DONE. in a way this chappie is dedicated to this special someone..sorry i forgot your username.**

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Living the X-Men Life 29

She took his advice the next day.

While everyone was scrambling about screaming noises in her ear that had to do with her kidnapping and his disappearance, she made her way to the Professor, who sat serenely at the head of the kitchen table. As she approached him, she realised that his composure was strained when seen up close. That crease on his clean forehead rarely made an appearance except on the most pressing circumstances.

"Ah need some help Professor." she confessed plainly.

"Immediate help?"

"Ah'm not hungry, but if you're busy..."

The Professor nodded knowingly. "Let Logan finish brewing the coffee and I'll be with you at the gazebo."

True to his word, he wheeled over to her with two cups of coffee. She blinked repeatedly at the memory of what last happened over coffee but she forced herself, and took the drink to be sociable.

"Ah suppose you wanna know what happened at the place, huh?" she murmured behind the cup before sipping.

"No need. Logan and Ororo had made it very clear. The point was further emphasised when Piotr brought back the camera recording."

Rogue swallowed the hot liquid too quickly at that and hacked ungraciously over the side. Professor Xavier took the cup aside and patted her on the back.

He hastily added over her sudden bout of coughing. "For your safekeeping."

"Ah didn't mean to." she said. "It was an accident, Ah swear!"

"I believe you, Rogue. We all believe you."

"All?" she blurted in panic.

"No, not _all_. But those who know about it, do." He rested his hand on her clothed forearm. "We'll help you move on."

"Who's _we_?" she asked suspiciously.

"The remaining party that rescued you, and myself. I've decided not to involve anyone else, including Scott and Jean, and you know I trust them above all my students."

The question is do they trust you back? Meanwhile, Remy and herself were keeping their most precious secret from you. She froze then mentally shook her head. No, she couldn't think about Remy now. Now it was about her problems and about solving them. She was taking his advice after all, that should count for something.

"So..." She sat herself on the gazebo's ledge again. "What now?"

"What do you think you should do?" Professor Xavier answered question with question.

"Oh, a shrink session." she scowled.

"Rogue," he said gently. "Getting over this episode is not going to be an easy task. Especially for a girl your age. It should _never have happened_, not to anyone, including you."

"Then what can Ah do 'bout it?"

"At least this is a piece of the past written in memory, and not in violent remains of debris and evidence." Professor smiled, "It's your conscience left to deal with."

"How am Ah supposed t'get ova' killin' somebody?" she mused sullenly, turning her gaze down the cliff to the crashing waves below. She looked back up again, "Erase mah' memory?"

"Nothing so extensive and mentally injuring." He sipped his coffee before continuing, "I thought we make progress on your powers."

"Again?" Rogue groaned outwardly. Meanwhile pure agitation sent her heart pounding against her ribcage, as if trying to escape from her body the painful way. "Ah thought we'd been over that already."

"It would give you another topic to fix your mind on." he replied serenely. "And renew your self-assurance that you can be in control of your circumstances. I'm not saying you forget what blood on your hands feels like, heavens no! Use it as a lesson."

"The only lesson Ah've learnt is 'Don't do it again."

"How about 'Life is precious'?" he suggested genially.

"Mmmm." she nodded precariously.

"You can do it, Rogue." he said, emphasising his point by patting her forearm. "It's all a matter of the mind."

She swallowed at the lump of tension in her throat, but it had grown into a suffocating boulder. "Alright." she managed to say.

"Although, I don't think you'd be in the frame of mind to tackle control today, perhaps for a few days."

Relief swept over her like a cool breeze.

"I'll arrange that you don't have to attend combat lessons with Logan or be pressed into any sort of institutional sessions with the other students. Until you feel ready for them again."

The cool breeze transformed into a chilling wind and she pulled the rim of her off-shoulder purple top over her shoulder. "You don't have to do that Professor. Reall'eh, maybe the power-control sessions, yeah, but Ah can still fight."

He folded his hands over his lap. "I just thought you might need some time alone." He cleared his throat before adding delicately, "For, er, Remy's leaving."

The boulder in her throat burned and the wind turned into an icy gale. She folded her arms and returned to glaring at the crashing waves below.

"I've been there myself, Rogue. It could even take years." the Professor said quietly. "And on the recruitment note, I'm at a loss."

"You were gonna – Oh. You were?"

"Well..." Professor Xavier crossed his fingers together with the forefingers standing up. "His audition scheme was most unorthodox, disagreeable from some points of view, but in the end, successful. He has the makings and the skills, just a few bad habits to rub away."

Rogue unconsciously stared at her own gloved hands, clenching and unclenching them. Her vision was growing blurry.

"Can we – Ah don't wanna talk about it."

"I'm sorry." he said, nodding apologetically. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

She took a breath. Now or never, she sighed. She didn't know what to expect or how he would react. She braced herself for the worst. "Ah... er... You won't lah'ke it."

"You can tell me anything, Rogue."

She hoped so too. "Somethin' happened t'meh. Back there at the place. Actually, Ah don't know how long Ah've been like this..." She swallowed at that rock-hard lump in her throat. "Mah powers..."

The Professor visibly shifted forward in his wheelchair.

"They're gone, Professor."

The lines of concern on his forehead multiplied. "Gone."

She nodded feebly.

He leaned back and his fingers arched themselves together. "You're not sure when and why."

She dropped her vision to the fascinating spectacle of her sneakers and shook her head. She heard him take a deep breath.

Finally he said, "It's probably alike a mental block. We can break it."

"You think so?" she mumbled, not looking up.

"Rogue, it's nothing to be afraid of." His voice was firm, almost confident. "I must admit, your powers are... one of the most unique I've ever come across. I wish sometimes I could do more for your progress. But it seems for every solution I prepare, a new reaction arises."

_Unique_, she thought bitterly, _A politer way of saying "Damn, hopelessly difficult"_.

"There's still hope." he replied to her thoughts.

"You poking around my brain, Professor?" She eyeballed him territorially without lifting her head.

"Actually, the whole story was written on your face." he said with some muse. "But we may need to do some _poking around_ to divulge some clue as to your power block. If that plan is alright with you."

Rogue swung her legs in uncertainty. It was never a pleasant experience when the Professor prodded her innermost thoughts in her subconscious to take centerstage on her mind. The results were queer visions and nightmares, memories twisted into abstracted forms that reflect how she felt about the real events. She never looked forward for exercises like the one that was inevitably coming.

"Okay..." she said, swallowing against the nervous lump of expectation and stepping away from the railing. She sat cross-legged before his wheelchair.

"Alright. Look up at me. Close your eyes."

She did and he placed his fingertips on the sides of her head, on her maroon hair.

"You'll be in control of the exercise," he continued. "I won't pry into memories you'd rather not expose."

She counted the moments of blackness before the images came. _One, two, three, four – _A whirly constellation of dark colours bubbled forth. _Here we go..._

She stood on a rooftop overlooking a foggy landscape. It was a night lit by a full moon and stars. But they didn't glitter with life; instead they were frozen and dim. What looked like the tops of trees bobbed up from the thick vapour. The building she stood on was covered in the swirling whiteness so she couldn't estimate what height she was balancing over. Cold wind bit her cheeks and slowly numbing her bare hands. Fear throbbed in her ears. She sat down hastily before she was blown over into whatever oblivion lurked below. Luckily she did, because a thunderous sound seemed to shake the whole world and a monstrous length of shadow sped through the impenetrable fog.

A train, her stunned self realised.

A shadow emerged from the end of the hazy horizon. She peered forward cautiously. The sound of a spitting motor grew louder as the shape approached. It was a motorboat. In it, a solitary occupant.

His eyes were two glowing orbs of red. She didn't need to look twice to know who it was. He was standing on the bow, not sitting as the boat creeped toward her in an alien smoothness. It cut through the fog and the wisps parted for him. A line of moonlit landscape revealed as the fog dissipated where he passed and she recognised where she was: Blood Moon Bayou.

He was three yards away at most when he reached out an offering hand to her.

_It's just a vision. This ain't real. _She hugged her knees in defence. But he came closer still, extending his hand toward her. His coat fluttered in the wind blowing from behind him. The moon framed his tall, dark figure. She saw both his hands, bare and outstretched. She wanted her. _Needed her. _She felt her own hands stretch toward him. He stepped forward until he was balancing tiptoe on the edge of the bow.

She barely heard the cawing. When she did, a barrage of them had swooped upwards between them. Walls of black feathers rushed from the depths she so feared. They encased her atop the house with Remy on the other side. He stumbled back into the boat and the motor kicked into action, moving in reverse. She couldn't make out what he was doing about it. Then the ravens scattered in all directions, the shock of their sudden broken unison causing her to throw her hands in front of her face. The reason showed itself a moment later. A shock of cards flew at her. She ducked instinctively.

But the cards rebounded an inch away from her face and they flew after the escaping birds. Some cards sliced the birds, some cards were torn to shreds. Some ravens fell back through the fog, majority made confetti of his attempt to save her. Meanwhile, the boat and its passenger were floating back from where they came from. The glowing orbs were fixed on her. She reached out, hesitantly. The red orbs turned away.

Something in her snapped. Like a silk thread spun through her spine, it broke apart, releasing her body from a restraint she wasn't aware was there before. She leapt from the rooftop, howling, at the fluttering ravens. The birds flapped about in surprise and darted out of her grasp. She was falling. The cold rush of adrenaline shot through her and tickled her skull at the thought of falling into the oblivion.

But one bird didn't fly as fast as the rest. She caught its black leg. It struggled, beat its wings against her fingers and when she failed to release it, began pecking viciously. Her fingers stung sharp pains as blood made river lines down her arm. Grinding her teeth against fear of falling and her wounds, she threw her other hand up and grabbed the bastard's wing. It cawed in protest and drove its dagger beak into that other hand. Now they were both plunging into the fog at a dizzying speed. She gripped the raven. A sick cracking resounded within her grip; she had broken its leg and wing.

All the ravens shrieked, human shrieks, like women screaming. The blood-curling noises rolled together to become one vocal scream that echoed through the fog. She grabbed its beak next and throttled its neck. The bird flapped its only wing uselessly. Rogue made it quick. _Snap!_ The bird in her hands stopped moving instantly, frozen in mid-struggle. Its coal eyes fixed her with a vacant stare.

The roar of another element tore her attention away from the corpse she held. Waves, waves crashing on jagged rocks. She had fallen out of the night fog above to emerge out from a cloud into broad day. The sun blazed. The new landscape burned under its scorching rays. But it wasn't a hot burn. It was an icy scalding that grazed her skin and numbed her flesh. She was falling, falling, into the water, with Raven in her grasp –

She screamed. A dull thud shook her senses and she heaved herself off the floor, head swimming in the bright, blurry shapes of reality. Hot tears ran down her face. She shuddered and moaned and held her head tight before it rolled off her shoulders and somebody played soccer with it.

In the distance, there was a gasp. Professor Xavier had pulled himself out of her mind before she shut the nightmare down. He narrowly escaped having his mind trapped within hers.

He recovered first. "Rogue, what –"

"I – It's – It's nothin'!" she cried. The world still swam and she clutched the plaster railing to steady herself.

"What happened to Mystique, Rogue?" he asked determinedly.

_Oh fuck. Oh god-damned fuck._ He had cracked the code, she panicked.

Spluttering over unformed words, she tripped over her feet repeatedly until she managed to force her legs into a run.

Through the front door, up the red carpet staircase, swerving left down the corridor. Her room. People threw themselves against walls to avoid colliding into the girl with the deadly skin. She heard Kitty's voice, Kurt's voice, Jean's voice and Tabitha's.

"Emotional much?"

Her hand was on the door handle of her room. She didn't turn to face the blonde bitch who said that. "Say that again."

"Emotional _much_." Tabitha slurred the last vowel. "Puh-lease! You couldn't keep him from the start."

"You," Rogue rotated on her heel mechanically. "Take that _back_."

"Make me." she dared, hands posed on her little waist.

And she did. Grabbing at her face, at her shirt, pinning her on the wall, kneeing her abdomen, smashing the living crap out of her mouth with a gloved fist, slapping Tabitha's resistive hands away, punching her solar plexus with two knuckles cruelly protruding. Heat consumed her body with an animal lust to inflict pain until Tabitha's body slumped onto her.

She shoved her onto the floor and the blond girl collapsed at her feet, rivulets of blood trickling from her nose and lips. Tabitha seemed to struggle and gasp for breath. Rogue's foot was lifted to kick her face in when a strong hand grabbed her ankle. The hand tugged her backward. She hopped to steady herself then spun on her grounded foot to face her attacker. She would later swing that foot toward the guy's useless head and –

"Rogue," growled Logan. "Don't even think about it."

She snarled and swung at him. He caught her deftly. _He's my teacher_. She cursed before landing on her spine. He dragged her across the carpet away from Tabitha. She flipped herself onto her front to clutch at anything to stop the moving. She hollered in wordless rage, thrashing in the grasp of a much more experienced fighter. She felt the eyes of every X-Man on her. She could smell the mingled pity, horror and awe they bore toward her.

She stopped throwing a fit. Boiling anger was swiftly replaced by hot shame and Rogue made herself limp. She glared at somebody's foot. Logan dropped her legs. Two foot steps later, she was pulled to her feet by her upper arms. She rolled her head away from his gaze.

"Ah just wanna get int' mah' room." she whispered.

He released her. Her feet moved of their own accord, the transmission to her brain taking eternity. The floor was distant from her body as if she was levitating above it instead of walking. The bang of the door she slammed took her by equal shock.

She found her way to the bed. The room was warm and stuffy and the curtains were pulled. Salty droplets burned her cheeks as she stripped down to her underwear, throwing her clothes somewhere far away from her.

She didn't understand where her body found the liquid to fuel her tears. She didn't know why she was tearing in the first place. Was it for her powers really? It's been her most fevered dream to touch somebody else. Doesn't matter how or for how long, but the beauty of touching skin was the only thing she envied about every other girl living here. She should be happy her powers are nonexistent. She should be joining the others in the pool wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini. Kitty could jump on her without caring. She could hug Kurt, the brother she never touched. She could put on shorts, tank tops and stroll around in flip flops, rip off her gloves! Isn't that what she wanted?

She trailed her puffy eyes over her own body: unnatural white skin against snow white bed sheets and black lace. Remy could be enjoying himself, she thought forlornly. Her eyes felt bloated and they shut on their own accord. She could be enjoying him. They could be enjoying each other as if nobody else in the world existed. The very thought made her feel empty, hollowing her from the inside. Yet her heart was beating a steady beat that coursed through her veins and heated her cheeks. He had kissed her, _truly kissed her_, full on the lips. She licked her lips in faint memory that was only last night and a fucking long time ago.

When her eyes opened again, they still felt a little puffy and more than a little tired. She closed them with a groan. Her body was stiff and aching where she was sprawled less-than-comfortably. As her brain slowly ticked into clear activation, she realised she was contentedly warm. Wasn't she just wearing her bra and panties? Her hand travelled about and she found the blanket was tucked neatly around her. She forced her eyes to blink open. They stubbornly rolled around in her sockets, keeping her vision fuzzy.

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**TA-DAAA! now who might the mysterious blanket mover be? ...ehh hahaha too obvious. XD thanks guys for being patient! im so nasty to have kept you waiting. sorry! =D**


	30. Where Does He Belong

**So all you guys told me this fic is getting emo and dark and unfunny. i agree with all my abused heart! so i decided the ending will have an attempt at funny, or at least let it be ironic. or let it be a smell of what was truely funny at the start of the story. and as an additional note, I DONT KNOW WHERE THIS STORY IS GOING! i hope for a happy, satisfying ending that wont result in rotton vegetables served back to me. meanwhile im gonna keep reading Christopher Durang's LAUGHING WILD monologues to learn a thing or two about ironic comedy.**

**hahaha those of you who know this guy's scripts, they're all dark stuff with a high dose of hilarity that makes you guilty and self-conscious afterward because the characters are so real that they reflect elements of yourself. but christopher durang has no links to marvel or to xmen evolution, so i'll kill the subject about him right now and**

**let you read the fanfic.**

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Living the X-Men Life 29

He had driven all night long. His ass was numb for the second time in twenty-four hours. For what cause? A fucking lost one.

When most would check into random motels when the sun sets, he walked into one as the yellow shining ball was peeking over the horizon. The streaks of clouds were lined with red. A red sky, Remy's strained eyes realised when he drove east right into the glare of the sun.

Jean-Luc's favorite line floated into memory. "When you come back, Remy," he said as he packed Remy into the family getaway car with the cutthroat thugs of the family, "Ah wanna see red skies t'morrow mornin'."

"What crap?" Remy had replied, squeezed next to a much bigger passenger.

"Red skies mean blood's been spilled the nah'te before, yo' dumbwit." And he slammed the door on Remy's coat end.

"Crap." He wasn't sure if it was about his coat or to repeat his disbelief.

The girl at the counter smiled up at him as he shuffled through the door. She was no more than fifteen probably, freckled, a small pimple on her cheek and bright-eyed.

"Good mownin'." she said in a sweet sounding high-note.

"Just a room, _petite_." he drawled sleepily. He flipped his empty hand about and conjured money from seemingly nowhere. "Couple o' hours."

Her eyes sparkled at his lazy hand trick before suddenly blinking with suspicion. "Just yourself?"

His half-dead brain didn't catch it at first, and then it dawned on him. "Yeah. Ah ain't meetin' anyone in your rooms."

"Okay." She took his cash and turned her slim back on him to store it in a safe box in a low-lying closet shelf.

On her side of the counter there was a wallet sitting on the edge. His magical fingers performed another trick, thinking he would need it more than they would.

"Alright, I'll show you up?" she smiled and walked him up a dim stairway, lit by a few light bulbs and the rising sunlight through a window.

He was happy to keep the silence but young girls were young girls, especially when they were around him.

"You're not from around here, huh?"

"_Non_. Just drivin' through."

"Goin' home?" she asked.

"Mayb'eh. Not sure."

"Why not?"

"Not fond of it."

"Oh." she mused. From the corner of his otherwise downcast eyes, he watched her think up of something to talk to him about. "So you've been bikin' all night?"

"Not that long, four – five hours."

"Funny hour t'be ridin'."

"Yeah, hilarious." he answered.

She fell silent for awhile, thinking furiously what it would take to keep him talking. Nothing short of a triple espresso, he thought to himself.

"M – My name's Anna."

"Really? That's a pretty nah'ce name." he replied, favouring her with a tired smile.

She pinked at the cheeks. "What's yours?"

He knew that question was going to come flying at him. "Etienne."

"Etienne..." she repeated softly, letting the vowels run over her tongue. "That's really cute."

"He is, ain't he?" he grinned flirtatiously.

She giggled. "Oh! Erm. Ha ha. Here's your room, Etienne." She slotted the key into the lock and opened the door for him. The room was dark with drawn curtains but smelt pleasantly of citrus.

"I just mopped the floor this mornin'. Hope you like it." she said shyly.

He thanked her and wished her good night, which was a ridiculous thing to say but the best thing to delight an infatuated Anna. He closed the door and on old instinct, bolted it.

He pulled off his coat and shoes and bulky utility belt to bury himself in the cold sheets. But sleep wouldn't take him. Every position he tried, he was comfortable and snug. His body surrendered to the soft mattress and had shut down long before his mind stopped ticking. His weary eyes wanted to melt into his head for they couldn't get any rest if his damned brain wouldn't stop thinking about her. He could almost see her behind his closed eyelids. Every event from the first time he laid foot on Institute grounds to the moment he slipped out the side gate replayed through his mind like a movie marathon. Every look she gave him, the scowls, the blushes, the hungry eyes and the rolling eyes, drifted through his brainwaves.

_You have gotta go back_.

Remy groaned and rolled over.

_You have gotta go back_.

...

When her night-enclosed environment came into focus, the first thing she noticed was a head lying on the lower corner of her bed.

Out of sheer impulse she kicked it.

It flew off and landed on the floor with a thud, along with the body attached to it. Whatever it was remained stunned on the floor for a few seconds for her to clamber over to it. Only one person would be sneaking about into her room at night, as unbelievable to her as it seemed, and only he smelt of cigarettes. She sat on her calves and held up his stupid brown head.

"My God, Remy, Ah'm so sorr'eh!"

"Orrrrhgh..." he replied, his head lolling about in her hands. "Ro-oh-oggh."

"You're here."

"Ah think so." he joked, giving her a grin that would have seduced her if only his eyes weren't rolling incongruously in their sockets. "Couldn't stay away... even if... Didn't know where t'go."

"Ah thought you'd run away."

"Ah did. But Ah'm sick o' runnin'. Sick o' leavin'. Time Ah stuck t'somethin', even if that somethin'... kicked my head."

"You crazy Cajun..." she smiled feebly.

When his eyeballs fell into a motion resembling synchronisation, they fixed onto her body, widened. "_Mon Dieu_..."

A moment later, belated realisation dawned on her like a crashing wave of humiliation. She dropped his head and he lay on her bare thighs.

"Still got a great view from here." he teased.

"Get off!" She pushed him away and climbed back on her bed. But a sort of thrill ran up her spine and she didn't wrap her half-naked self up in the blanket. Rather, she perched on the bed for his viewing pleasure.

It worked; he was grinning away like the feral bastard he was.

Suddenly she was aware of him. Her skin was touchable and all too ready for him. Like a ripe fruit hanging in the breeze, just yearning to be _picked_. She was barely conscious that her lips were parted as he picked himself up from the floor.

He read her eyes for a moment and his smile dissolved. "You've been cryin'."

"It's nothin'." she said, the hasty change of mood sending her thoughts in a jumble. "Tabitha, that damned bitch."

His concerned look matched the tone of his voice, "Rogue..."

"She said somethin' and Ah beat the shit outta her, okay?" she replied sullenly. "Felt kinda good 'bout it at the moment. Then Ah felt bad."

He raised an eyebrow. "Felt bad?"

"Ah don't wanna talk 'bout it." she muttered, guilt creeping through her soul.

At that, his eyes trailed down her body, travelling slower at certain places. She found herself heating under his intense gaze. Her lower lip dropped a little, but her heart was pounding tightly with another emotion altogether.

"Then, maybe we don't need talkin'..." he suggested.

"No, we don't."

"Got another plan?" he asked, crawling up to her legs that were hanging off the bed.

"You can plan for these things?" she asked.

He chuckled, "Let me show you." His hand cradled her neck and the other slid around her waist.

Her naked hands moved onto his upper body. "Yes, please." she answered.

"First, Ah'm gonna hold you so close you can't move." He pulled her flush against him and she sat on the edge of the bed, his waist between her thighs.

Her body stiffened out of its own accord in habitual uncertainty. Then she remembered herself and her powerlessness and relaxed somewhat in his arms. A waft of cigarette smoke diffused into her senses from his shirt, mixed with the smell of his own masculinity.

"Ah can still hit you." she countered, tapping her fingertips on his shoulders.

"Shh," He took his hand away from her neck and placed a bare finger on her lips. "Don't talk when Teacher is talkin'."

She gasped, scandalised, and he grinned with that mischievous gleam in his red eyes. His frightening, beautiful red eyes.

"Second, Ah'm gonna kiss you senseless." he whispered, drawing closer with each word.

His lips were hard and deliciously hot. He moved gently over her mouth with undeniable command, caressing her lips, setting them on fire. The ease he coaxed her mouth open to set his tongue loose within her drove almost all thoughts from her mind. The floating haze that filled her consciousness was slowly smouldering into an urge to be consumed by him. His expert lips encased her world, his tongue invading her senses and overpowering most of the restraint she felt the first time. She felt herself surrender much to the hand that drew ticklish circles on her neck and shoulder. She moaned, though softly.

Release itself was a stimulant. The cold air that filled her depleted lungs only ignited a stronger desire to be breathless again. A nagging guilt pulled some of the savour from the moment however, and she closed her swollen lips.

"Third," he continued without a hint of being distracted by the raw kiss they had just shared. "Ah'm gonna get you on this bed."

He released her waist for the briefest instant to pick her up and set her on the sheets. His back turned to pull the blanket down. Much to her frustration and delight, he took his time to meander around the single-sized bed, keeping his eyes on her. He switched on the bedside lamp and filled the room with a dim, ember glow. Her core throbbed hotly as the warm light reflected in his devilish eyes.

"Fourth," His face cleared into a business-like countenance. "Ah'll settle the problem 'bout these clothes."

Wild anticipation rising within her must have spilled onto her features, for he broke into a gratified smile as he peeled the shirt off. She thought she had seen every crafted muscle of his. But she found herself still in awe of the actual flesh that made him everything desirable. The light cast shadows upward, highlighting the signs of hard fitness and giving his broad-shouldered, narrow-hip figure an overwhelming emphasis. Only one side of his face was visible with his lip curled upward seductively.

She licked her lips uncontrollably.

He let her savour a few more moments of the sight so many other women wanted in many other confined spaces. In his book, it never failed to toy their fragile desires with some slow foreplay. The very thought of seducing her was fundamental when he was thinking about it and now he was more than excited to play the game. But she had this volatile heart, which was beautifully hers, that could cause her to flit away from the moment if he chose his steps wrongly. That he learned when he threw sleep aside and lay on his back thinking about where he went wrong with her in this very room.

If she saw confidence in his movements, he had no idea. He was, self-admittedly, nervous as hell. He wasn't this nervous at his first time and definitely never at the others but with her, he had this crazy voice yelling at him not to mess it up.

Casually, conjuring the casualness from the tiny assurance he felt under her hungry gaze, he undid his half-gloves and shoes and socks. Only frequent practice kept him from stumbling over himself. He was aroused by her alright; the growing tautness of his pants could tell anyone that. He was just unaccustomed to being conscious about his actions and the strange intentions that said actions might reflect toward her. What if they made it all the way to stark nakedness and he put himself on top of her too fast? She might throw him off her again and hurt parts of him that shouldn't be abused too often. This was the most delicate stage of any man's plan. This is the point that a woman will have her final judgement of him. He had to make the next moments of her life the best she ever had.

He licked his lips out of pure nerve. The response from her was a titillated blush.

Then he realised that he didn't bring any condoms.


	31. Hammers and Whirlpools

**if you think the title of this chapter makes no sense, you're not alone. i think this writer has poor name-giving skills. pity her future baby if she ever has one. it might end up being called sweet pea or baked potato because pregnant ladies are forever hungry. if she calls it jack sparrow, call 911. XD**

**i have just realised, this fanfic is being brought to its ending. CURSE YOU WRITER! hmmm, just a technicality of a bedroom scene left (guess that means there's no sex in this chapter either). and the ultimate predicament of whether remy would stay on as an x-man or will he and rogue elope somewhere. whaddaya think it should be? the writer of this fanfic favours elope. hotel rooms have much much much have more privacy than dorms. please be free to violently disagree with said writer. =)**

**read on. ENJOY!**

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Living the X-Men Life 31

"What's wrong?"

That question was never posed to him before by a half-naked woman on a bed. Never. In all his professional (self-acclaimed) sex life, no lover ever told him something was wrong, or asked if something was wrong. _Oh living hell_, he thought. He was in a heap of shit.

How did he forget? He never forgot. Those things. The most important thing next to having good breath was bringing those god-damned things! He felt like a fool standing around in his boxers. The dark pink ones. He had stripped off his pants for her with all the calm he could muster despite wanting to jump out the window and hiding in the nearest alligator's mouth the rest of his life. With the delighted smile creeping onto her face, he took comfort that she hadn't seen through his facade.

"Nothin', _Chéri_." he said. _Except that Ah have no idea where to get us protection in the middle of the night IN A DAMN MUTANT INSTITUTION._

Summers might. He and Jean have been at it like rabbits for God knows how long. Remy was a sneak thief right? The best thief the Thieves' Guild ever produced. Let's see, it's probably in his bedside drawers under papers and letters and spare sunglasses. Hopefully the drawer isn't the squeaky kind. Problem solved!

Or not. Jean is pregnant for God's sake. They could still be doing it without fear since the worst has already happened. So he could be wandering around the male wing without so much as a reward for his efforts. He'll have to get past Logan's room, worst still. That ademantium ape will have him strung up on the Institute's chimney by his balls as soon as said ape sees Remy LeBeau back in town, scooting about the dark in nothing but pink boxers. And he'll need his balls.

Playing her out wasn't an option, it was a death sentence. If he tried to fool her into making love with him without protection and he failed, she would kill him. As sure as all hell. If he tried to fool her into making love with him without protection and they do, he'll kill himself. As sure as his boxers were pink.

Why was he thinking so much about his boxers?

"You still wear 'em, huh?" she asked, shyly fidgeting against the pillows. "The pink ones."

"You like 'em?" he teased.

"Ehh..." She tried to put on a disgusted look and failed, breaking into a soft laugh. "Yeah."

"It's still your fault they're getting _wet_."

She was genuinely scandalised by that, he could tell, as her cheeks reddened into a lovely bright shade. She was lovely. Not just beautiful, sexy and absolutely mouth-watering, but truly lovely. The way she lay on the bed, propped by pillows and wearing nothing but her black laces, her pale skin warmed by the golden light of the bedside lamp. The black material only served to accentuate how full she really was. Full of flesh, full of heat, full of emotion and heart, full of concern, mistakes, strength and at the moment, full of desire.

He couldn't ruin that.

"Rogue, Ah – Ah wanna be honest wit' you, _Chéri_."

She rolled onto her stomach, propped up on her elbows, and locked eyes with him. "Yeah?"

He swallowed. Her breasts were pressed above the bed and were being a complete distraction. "Ah didn't bring any... any..."

Her smile vanished as easily as it was difficult to put it on. "That's not funn'eh, Remy." she warned.

"Ah'm not jokin'. Ah really don't have a condom."

She sat herself up on her calves, staring at him with incredulity. Her mouth opened to say something, then she thought better of it and put her head in her hands. She shook her head, making hushed noises to herself.

He came forward and reached for her arms. "Rogue, Ah'm –"

She jerked her head up all of a sudden, forcing him to take two steps back. Her smaller fists shook at him vehemently. "_You touch me again_," she snarled, all the murder in the world burning in her grey eyes. "And Ah'll _kill you!_"

Her hand clapped over her mouth in shock. She didn't just say that to him, she thought, did she? Those exact words – she had said them to him. They were not intended for him. That triggered memories of a deed she would rather forget and tears came forth, unbidden.

"Ah'm sorr'eh." she spoke clearly, though blinking. "Ah didn't mean it. Ah wouldn't – would never do that."

"Shhh." he whispered and she sensed him kneel before her. His warm, rough hand caressed her cheek, his thumb stroking away the thin streams of salty water.

She recoiled from his touch with a physical scuttle backwards. So consumed with guilt, she almost didn't notice the edge of the bed until she toppled over. She sat up and looked at him from the opposite side of the furniture. His mouth opened to say something, that wonderful mouth that kissed her just a few minutes ago. A wonderful man she didn't deserve.

"Don't touch meh'." she repeated and held her hand out as if she could stop him with such a simple gesture.

"Ah want to." Remy replied, leaning over the bed. "Not just for _that_, but... We don't have to. Just tell me what's wrong."

He's asking; he wants to know. She thought, who else could she tell? Who else could keep a secret and no one else would know? It'll be as safe as locking a vault and throwing away the combination. She knew he could be trusted with it. If she was about to trust this man with her state of virginity, surely, one secret is more than easy.

"Ah can't."

He leaned forward even more. "Why not?"

"Because," she stuttered, "Ah don't want you involved."

"Tell me, please." he insisted.

A crushing wave of fear washed over her. Her heart wedged itself in her windpipe and she couldn't breathe. New rivers of tears were flowing from her eyes as her face heated up in exertion. She was still exhausted from her last sobbing and her body instantly protested when she bent over her hands and cried again.

In a moment, he was noiselessly by her side, whether she wanted it or not, pulling her up, holding her close, stroking her hair and hushing into her ear.

Her shame pounded in her ears louder than his reassurances. She felt her inner parts taking sides on her left and right, almost like she was being torn in half. The aches were a distant sensation, isolated in their various areas and she could feel them straining. She was still afraid. Yet she felt so ready to let it go. This wasn't the freedom she wanted when she took it, if anything; it's a god-damned curse. She didn't want it no more. She needed to be justly free.

And he held the keys.

"Ah killed her." she hiccupped.

"What?"

She felt something tingle inside her, like a fading ember in a pile of dead ashes rekindling.

"Ah," She sniffed and cleared her throat. Her eyes felt painfully puffy again. "Killed her. Mystique."

She expected him to pull away, maybe stare into her eyes to see if she was joking. Instead, his arms wrapped tighter around her and his hands stroked her upper arms.

"Her real name was Raven Darkholme. Adopted meh' when Ah was four." She squeezed a trickle of water out of her eyes. "Mah' mother. And Ah killed her."

"When?"

She pulled back to look into his eyes. They glimmered in the orange glow of the lamp with an inscrutable emotion.

"After you got poisoned."

"When you left me in the hospital room?"

"Then Ah came back t'see if you're okay."

He paused, holding her shoulder and running an unconscious finger over her cheek. "There wasn't another way?"

"Ah wanted t'be alone. She found meh and talked t'meh under that damned gazebo. She was tryin' t'convince meh' it was all for the better good. Like she cared! She said you didn't care. You weren't good for meh'. She told meh' t'come with her and we'll live a life without distractions of good and evil. Put the whole Apocolypse thing behind us. To live t'gether lah'ke mother and daughter. _Bullshit_." At the last word, she realised she was seething.

"Pure bullshit." he said. His hands took hers.

"Then," she swallowed and he squeezed her hands, heartening her. "Then Ah told her t'go t'hell, Ah think. She became angry and caught my arm. We fought combat at first. Then it got hostile. She morphed into a snake – anaconda, and was tryin' t'knock me out, seperatin' mah' hands and stranglin' meh. So Ah bit her and absorbed her powers with mah' lips.

"Ah could hear her thoughts. She wanted t'run and morphed into a raven just in time before Ah could really hurt her." She stopped to rub her temples. A dull throbbing was growing in her skull like someone had invited little hammers to visit her brain. "Ah caught her and – Ah don't remember much – punched her until the bird stopped movin'. She morphed back into herself, blue, scaly and... very dead. Ah couldn't think. Tossed her over the side into the sea. It was high tide."

Insentience, she bowed and clenched her fists against her temples, knocking back at the little hammers in her head. The pounding was getting more aggressive like a growing whirlpool in a once calm sea, sucking at her thoughts mercilessly. She moaned out loud. In some faraway reality, she could feel his strong arms around her again and his warm breath blowing against her hair. She was only aware of the draining and the heightening pounding banging away inside her skull.

The draining sensation was rooting into her spinal cord, infecting the vulnerable nerves that laced through it and forcing her to arch her back in defence. In vain, she tried to scream. Only a wordless hiss sprayed from her open mouth. _Remy_, she wanted to yell, _Remy, help meh'!_

Strange muffled sounds made it through her dulled eardrums. She forced her swollen eyes open. There he was; she vaguely made out his troubled face and how close he was. He had caught her from falling on her back against the hard floor, she realised. But the pain was too much. The glare of a light once too dim was now too intense for her eyes, not to mention the small hammers that have seemed to have multiplied tenfold and enjoying the residence of her sore skull.

The draining was going beyond her consciousness. She could feel it sucking at her raw strength like an insatiable black hole. Her world itself was growing darker, blackening at the corners of her vision until finally it was a mere line of an orange glow. She couldn't hold on much longer. Her weak, struggling body was shaking with effort. Her fingers were stiff from clenching and her shoulders had a biting ache. She wished she could drop everything.

She went limp on him. As limp as a dead fish. She couldn't hear him call her name. The redness in her tear-stained cheeks was fading. Her lips were slowly parting from the pull of gravity.

Instinctively, he brought his ear to the left of her chest. As distracting as it was, he could make out a faint heartbeat beneath all that soft flesh. He laid her flat on the floor and pumped at her chest, muttering, "C'mon, c'mon!"

When she didn't so much as stir, he listened for her heartbeat again. It was stronger. He pumped again. "Please." He frowned, "C'mon, be stubborn, _Chéri_..."

Her eyes flew open. He could make out the grey irises transforming into red ones, the whites of her eyes turning black.

In the two seconds that he spent being dumbfounded, his world collapsed.

When she came to, an all too familiar sensation flowed through her.

"Remy." she murmured. The sensation abruptly halted in its tracks.

With that, he flopped on top of her, his head tucked in the valley between her breasts. The whirlpool and the little hammers had left the premises of her brain. Instead there was a deep voice speaking very clearly in a Southern accent.

_Ouch. Got your powers back, eh Chéri? _She could hear the smug grin in his voice._ Mon Dieu, Ah'm likin' where Ah'm lyin'._

She scowled at Remy's psyche but never in a thousand years would she want to move him away. He was actually lying on her, unconscious, but alive. She wasn't draining him the life out of him. It was a perfectly normal skin-to-skin contact. The headache was gone, save for the one caused by the excessive discussion of her body conducted by a very horny psyche. But it was an ache she could get used to. An ache she hoped she would get used to, soon.

Together, they could be causing her all kinds of aches in places she never ached, because she knew without doubt; the first damn thing she had no doubt in for the first time in her life; the conviction was bubbling deep in her soul, that she finally had her powers under control.

She took the deep breath of the freed, and smiled.

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**AWWW NO SEX? i hate this writer. **


	32. Finally

**LOTS OF HEARTFELT THANKS AND SINCERE LOVE TO ALL MY BELOVED REVIEWERS&READERS! SOME WHO STUCK LOYAL TO THIS FANFIC AND THOSE WHO DIDNT, NEVERMIND! I STILL LOVE YOU GUYS! BIG THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT! cos this tale is reaching its end.**

**My longest chapter to date! And longest awaited i presume? xD okay im not all that. here's humility bundled in a sweet, small package! *throws something like a hand-sized box* humility looks funny. it shapeshifts often. one moment its a tortoise recoiled in its shell, next its a child ballet dancer doing curtsy, finally its a girl with her laptop peering at the world.**

**So haha sorry to keep you guys waiting! work had me going five days in a row. then with school starting i was running about the place picking up all the necessities of schoolife.**

**a note: due to the nature of this chapter, i should change the rating to M. seriously. i shall do it. sooner or later. ok, soon. late. ahhh i dont have the heart to! but if i dont nasty terrible things will happen to my life! alright. i bet you've noticed that the rating's been changed already. so yeah. im just screaming my thoughts at the internet.**

**ENJOY! a certain person who shall not be named asked for someone to jump on the lovers. well, to said person, its not what you specifically requested (thinking of the violence factor of an intrusion made by the ever gentle wolverine, who will make our cajun hero a eunach on the spot), my bad entirely. i thought about throwing scott&jean... nahhh. curiosity kills the cat. the poor cat!  
i hope you still like it! =D**

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Living the X-Men Life 32

_Oh Chéri...!_

"What?"

_Have Ah ever told you how lovely you are?_

"Only about four hundred times tonight."

_Hmmm... OH! My real self is wakin' up! _The psyche chuckled. _Have fun, Rogue._

"How many times must Ah tell yah'," she snapped. "Mah' name is Anna!"

The K.O.-ed form on top of her stirred and groaned. They had lain on the floor for about half an hour, she listening to his calm breathing and watching the digital glow of the bedside clock flash the time. The windows were still closed and the curtains drawn tight. No one in the mansion was awake at 4a.m. either by them or by midnight snack cravings. If anyone was, the pair of them was screwed, in a less-than-desirable sense than the one intended.

"Anna..." Remy repeated groggily. "Anna? Your real name?"

She blushed at being caught talking to herself. Damn these psyches, she could do without them any day. But it had kept her company. Now she could have the real thing. "Anna Marie, yeah."

He helped himself onto his elbows, off her chest, although his eyes remained on them for awhile before he tore them away with obvious effort. "Ah love it."

"The name, or the..." she teased, letting the sentence hang.

He grinned; the light cast a shadow on one side of his face, making him every bit the white devil. "Both."

And he brought his head down to her chest. She heated as his warm breath moved in wisps over her bare skin, goosebumps rising where his lips hovered. She shivered in anticipation.

He lifted his head up suddenly, much to her disappointment. "Your powers." he simply said.

"Yeah, they're back."

"Then," he murmured, "Ro – Anna, you got control."

She considered reprimanding his _quick sense_ of realisation with her habitual criticism, but somehow, nothing spiteful came to mind. "Yes." she whispered.

She caught sight of his tongue briefly wetting his lip. "D'you wanna do this?"

"You don't?" she retorted.

He chuckled out loud. "Oh, Ah want this. Ah've been wantin' this... But," He shook his dark hazel head and rolled to the side. He rubbed his forehead where her foot had previously made contact. "Between your kick and your powers, everythin' ain't in the right place they should be."

An idea came to her. "Can Ah put 'em back for you?" she suggested.

She climbed and sat on top of him, straddling his hips. She could feel something hard pushing beneath her. Alright, admittedly, she knew what it was. She felt herself blush at being so bold.

"Ahhh," he grinned in some surprise. "Yes, please."

Hands planted on the hard planes of his chest, she lowered herself down to meet his lips.

A flash flood of desire swept over her entire being as soon as they touched. His lips were so deliciously hot and baby soft and they encased her wholly. At his tongue's gentle (or dazed) urging, she tilted her head to the side and he slipped into her mouth. She may be positioned over him, but he grew more insistent with every caress (maybe he wasn't so dazed after all); she could taste his poise, his suave, and his expertise in every confident lick from that warm tongue. She knew she could trust him. Tonight, and every other night that came their way. Here, anywhere, as long as he was there to ride the boat with her through the fog.

"Feelin' bett'r?" she asked.

"Hell yeah."

They kissed again.

His hands weren't still. She could feel his roughened palms travelling up the back of her thighs, bit by thrilling bit. She let a soft moan into his mouth when they reached her ass. Much to her delight, he began to toy with the hem of her panties. Then he released it with a pinching _thwack!_

She broke the kiss with a yelp and her hand flew to her mouth; Kitty might have heard it. Or Jean. Or Ororo. Somebody might come through that door any moment –

His grip on her ass tightened and he rolled over on top of her. A broad finger tapped her lip in mock severity. Taking a moment to readjust himself, he stood up, lifting her up in the same movement. She gasped in surprise before he laid her on the bed. He bent over her from the edge.

"Let's try not t'make too much noise, _Chéri_." he murmured against her lips.

"Lah'ke Ah can help it when you do that." she replied with a sense of justification.

"Then..." He straightened himself up, pulling her to sit upright in the process. He stepped away from the edge of the bed and hooked his thumbs in the hem of his drawers, the ever manly pink ones. He teasingly continued, "Don't scream."

Oh God. Anna swallowed down the suffocating ball of burning anticipation. But it seemed to have grown roots in her throat. Her legs pressed together in response to a sudden tightness between her thighs. She was going to get to see his goods.

_You'll like it, Anna. Ah guarantee it._ The psyche whispered.

Her heart pounded in apprehension. Her mouth parted in hunger. This moment was so lusciously un-right. Sin, she should call it just that. The world's most wonderful sin.

Remy's look turned serious in the light of the lamp. "It might be a lil' disturbin', first time round. Ah could turn off the light, if you want."

"Can't be that bad." she offered, feeling her cheeks warming when she said it.

His mouth curled up on one side as he bent over and pulled the boxers off. As much as she enjoyed the sight of his broad, muscular back, she was impatient for his upper body to get out of the way. When it did, she found herself involuntarily shifting against the headboard.

"Oh my..." she gasped. She couldn't finish what she was saying. What she wanted to say was along the most undignified lines for a to-be lover. Because he was so goddamn HUGE. How was she expected to fit that thing inside her? It was going to hurt her more than she thought. She could just imagine her vagina being ripped to shreds. At that thought, heat surged to her cheeks until she was flaring at the temples. She sat there against the headboard, speechless and frozen, staring at his swelled manhood.

He cleared his throat, snapping her fascinated gaze back to his face. Though he wore confidence like a mask, behind his crimson eyes she could see a little nervousness. She relaxed a little. He wasn't forcing her to do anything or charging at her and demanding her immediate surrender. He was being careful, for her sake, no less. She had nothing to fear from this man.

With a theatrical gesture, he broke the awkward silence that had built between them since his drawers met the floor. "_Voilá._ A man's greatest secret."

"Greatest?" she said, in the most indifferent tone she could muster. "It ain't all that, Remy."

His expression turned dumbfounded. She smirked. He regarded her with a funny look then shrugged casually, "It ain't, huh? Alright."

He swiftly did his drawers up again.

"Hey!" she protested, scrambling to the edge of the bed.

"Seems you don't want me."

He sauntered toward her; he never looked more devious and threateningly seductive. In two steps, he was kneeling between her knees. His dark eyes burned into hers until the world withered away. They told her she was going to pay for that little insult. She was acutely aware of the warmth his strong hands on hers yet her head floated in a hazy atmosphere.

"Ah do." she murmured mindlessly.

"_Non_," he smiled with all sinister intensions. "No, you don't."

His head began to grow in her vision and she realised, he was moving closer. His warm breath felt warmer, his cigarette-tainted scent was stronger, his eyes downcast. "Not yet."

He kissed her and pulled away just as fast, leaving her open-mouthed for more. He leaned in again.

"Ah'm gonna teach you to want me." he said between cruelly brief kisses. "And want me some more."

He slowly warmed her lips. The sheer intensity of it burned the skin of her sensitized lips. Her core was set aflame once again and she jerked her hands under his. His grip tightened like iron shackles. She wanted to feel him, snake around his neck, relish in his solid masculinity and the soft waves of his sleek mane. He didn't budge. The pressure within her was building with every demanding caress of his mouth, _oh_ and his tongue, his tongue was raw against hers. The wet organ abraded her attempts to enter his mouth. She made a weakened struggle against his restraint on her hands, losing from the heady way he thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth. She pressed into the kiss instead.

He pulled back, sliding gracefully to suckle on her lower lip. She moaned softly. It wasn't as fulfilling as a tongue tournament, but pleasure still danced across her skin. Then his teeth entered the picture. He nibbled on the frail layer of skin, pricking at the strands of nerves that sent her spine shivering.

"Let meh' – Ohh." she whispered hoarsely.

Light kisses feathered across her jawline to that soft spot beneath her ear. She had to moan.

"_Non_. No talkin'." he breathed.

His open mouth pressed against her nape, warm and wet, his breath pouring over her over-sensitive flesh. Her spine dissolved under the rush of signals erupting from his kiss. Her knees clamped his waist of their own accord and she leaned into him. She felt him grin against her skin.

She opened her mouth to reprimand him for stopping. Her words were swallowed in a tide of melting heat when he began to climb down the column of her neck, each kiss sending a wave of pleasure over her entire body down to her toes. And then his teeth... Oh God, his teeth journeyed across her exposed collarbone and desire screamed through her. At least, she wanted to scream, or moan so loud everyone in the mansion will flock to her room, or do something equally mortifying. She gripped the sheets under her restrained hands and her breath quickened. She felt herself melting at the juncture of her thighs.

He followed her bra strap down to the swell of her breasts, leaving a fading, wet memory where he trailed. Oh. Oh. Yes, something definitely liquid was happening down there. Ohhh...

Suddenly she was aware of his rough palms moving over her body. Her fists were still clenching the sheets while he was reaching behind her back and over her tensed thigh. His kisses remained paced and deliberate on her breasts, driving her to near frenzy. _Please. Please._ She wasn't sure what she was begging for, but his hand seemed to know her body better. He moved to her inner thigh and crawled nearer and nearer to where she was leaking hotly. She almost cried out in pleasure when his finger pressed into the cloth that separated him from her swollen flesh.

He groaned, "You're already wet."

He nudged that spot again. And again. He traced the line of her cleft continually, adding heat by friction to the growing fever between her legs.

An insane part of her wanted to kick him in the guts and wrench off the damned panties then force him to do that again to her raw flesh. The images ran through her head like wildfire.

"You want me."

Yes, she did. She started to pant against his hand.

"Say you want me, Anna." His rubbing became faster. "Make me get you out of these clothes."

She obliged, with every fibre of her desperate body. "Ah want you." she moaned.

"What?" he asked, the tone of his voice innocent from the act he was performing on her intimate places. Her breasts and her core were singing for his attention.

"Ah _want_ you." she panted. Her hands released the sheets to catch his face that was moving to and fro her chest. She glared into a pair of wickedly gleaming eyes. Expectant eyes. Triumphant eyes.

She crashed into his lips; driving her tongue into him with all the exploding passion he built within her. He responded in equal ferocity. His hands grabbed at her body and he pushed her onto the bed. His larger body was lying atop hers, her breasts pressed flush against his chest. She could feel her erect nipples being squeezed into her soft flesh.

He wrenched off her with a rough gasp.

Her breath caught. Already there was a spot of glisten on his neck. It aroused her to know he desired her, sparking a similar response of mad attraction within her. At that moment, she knew _she was his_. Yet with that position, she felt a tangy stir of power. Power that she made him feel this way. Power that she made him want her this bad. Power that she made him _sweat_.

They stared at the dark glitter in each other's eyes before they began to move into the bed. She shuffled backwards until her head lay on the springy fluff of her pillow. He crawled onto the mattress, but stayed crouched by her legs.

Her long, beautiful legs. He let his eyes feast on their paleness and slender length. They were made, he believed with all the blood rushing in his veins, they were made to wrap around his waist as he took her. They weren't skinny. They were a trained pair, with enough kick in them to send his head to the moon. They would hold him so close, afterwards. The space in his drawers was filling up with a hard reason.

"It starts here." He found himself saying.

Taking her ankle in his hands, he trailed urgent kisses along the inside of her calf, satisfying himself in her resulting moans, imagining those calves being pressed against his back when they finally made love. Oh sweet God. His blood was doubly speeding up in every part of his body. He found the notch at the back of her knee that tickled her and she made a sound through clenched teeth. She was taking his suggestion about noise levels seriously.

He drew sketches of spirals on the inside of her thigh, dotting the circles with kisses. Her unused leg shifted around in the disquiet he caused and she mewled. He stifled a groan of his own. The noises of arousal she made tugged at his own mounting desires. The heady scent of her femininity – musky, intense and hunger-inspiring – didn't help his weakening self-control. He found himself facing her entrance, clothed in a damn sexy black lace.

He spared a glance from between her legs. Her head was thrown back against the pillow, her smooth neck fully exposed. Her lovely breasts rippled with each struggling breath she took, held together by a restraining bra.

Skipping over her abdomen, laying tender kisses on the ridges of her ribcage, he crawled over her body. His hands followed closely behind his lips. In response, her arms wrapped around his neck, her nimble fingers explored the muscles of his shoulders and ran through his hair. His body tightened and he kissed her with fresh fervency. He squeezed his fingers between her back and the mattress. She must have sensed what he wanted, arching her back upwards. He quickly unclasped the garment with expert fiddling. Pulling the straps from behind her back, he ushered her to lie down again.

Hands propped on the bed, he lowered his head and drew the clothing away in his mouth. Her naked curves fully revealed themselves even before her arms were free. When he finally tossed the bra aside, he groaned aloud. A deep, resonating sound. She was so full. The voluminous circles they formed on her body, peaked in a darker shade, completed with a lucid valley down the middle.

"You're gorgeous, _Chéri_." he breathed huskily. He barely noticed how her blush reached her ears, only that the unusual pallor of her skin had become warmer under his touch.

Touch her. He wanted to hold those breasts so badly. But he noticed her eyes close and her lips press together in some emotion he couldn't fathom. Resistance? Nervousness? Or, please no, fear?

He swallowed lust into the pit of his stomach. He lowered himself and sealed those taut lips with his. Some of the tension melted in the smaller body under his. Slowly, he brought his hand to her abdomen and made his careful way up. It was like trying to coax a bluebird to take seeds from a stranger; pull a fast one and she'll flutter out the window. She, or more likely, him.

He stopped himself just below her right breast.

"Remy," Her eyes stared up at him, her kiss-swollen lips parted invitingly.

He indulged her. Her small mouth took his lips as much as he took hers. Her hands snaked about his upper body and arms, tracing the cords of his toned muscles. She wants him. He shuddered at her touch. It felt like the capillaries under his skin raised themselves to meet her ginger strokes.

He touched her breast. It was as soft as he ever imagined, warm to the touch, filled his hand just perfectly. She

He closed his lips over the hard nub. She took another, much louder gasp. His own body quivered with hers. His tongue toyed with her nipple, rolling it inside his mouth. Her mewling returned. His scalp prickled with the fingernails she drove in her bliss. He measured her volume with his other hand, massaging the supple flesh, feeling that little ball of hardness behind the nipple.

He could pull his erection free from his drawers and enter her right now. She was wet and warm and ready by all accounts. He could release all the pent-up energy he had been waiting to unleash for months now. God, had he _waited_.

"Remy..." she panted.

No. He will give her the intimacy of time and timing that a virgin needed. If he was going to put his brand on her flesh, he will do it right.

"Yes?"

"Can we do it," Her voice was throaty. "Now?"

His body thrummed with sheer excitement. But some part of him found distress in being told his presumption was wrong. "Say it again, _Chéri_."

"Now, Remy!"

"Remy, what?" he teased. Because he could.

"Remy," She sucked a deep breath that raised her chest to encase his face. Her voice was hoarse and impatient and absolutely luscious. "Remy _goddamn_ Lebeau!"

He chuckled out loud and yanked at her panties. Her hips wriggled to help him along, a motion Remy enjoyed more than was absolutely necessary. Together they managed to shimmy her last bit of clothing off and he couldn't care where he flung it.

Her eyes fixed on his drawers with the intensity of a starved cat eyeing a juicy morsel. "Take it off. Now."

He did. Without making a show of it. He knelt between her raised knees while she seemed to study his anatomy thoroughly.

As he reached for the lamp, she put her leg in his way. He knew she meant to keep the lights on. But for their first time together, he decided otherwise. He took her calf and began kissing it until her eyes closed in inevitable ecstasy. He reached for the switch again.

"Ah wanna see you." she murmured.

"It's better in –"

The calf he thought he rendered helpless with his kisses stroked his side. His body went rigid in sheer pleasure, relishing in the feel of her porcelain skin. His mind ticked along, telling him he was being distracted. It was wrong; he was hypnotised. Then her foot artfully gave a strong nudge that sent him falling on her. He caught himself just before his face smashed into her breasts, which wasn't a nasty situation in the least anyway.

Suddenly, he remembered that little episode of the past. He laughed.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

The old Rogue was back. Oh, _pardonnez_, it was Anna. Anna. "This." He kissed the valley between her breasts. "This." He crawled a hand toward her intimate place. The heat radiating from her entrance was driving him mad. "And, _this_." He fingered her wet cleft.

"Ohhh." she moaned, her head tossing back into the pillow.

He stroked her up and down. He watched her hands grip the sheets, her chest heave for oxygen, her eyebrows scrunch together. His lips came on her creased forehead gently. Even her forehead was lovely.

Her hips began to rock against his hand. He shifted to lie half atop her before slipping a finger into her core. She received him with clenched teeth. Her inner muscles gripped his finger as if it was something more than just a narrow finger and all sorts of erotic substitutes ran through his fevered brain. None particularly decent or agreeable on her side. He began to pull his finger from her. She whined.

The sound struck him as ultimately unlike anything he ever heard. Oh, but it nearly did an explosive trick on him. An explosion that shouldn't be happening right on the sheets at this very moment. His breath caught in his lungs lest he messed the place up.

He pushed back in. She was so hot inside, he realised, again and again, as he slotted his finger back and forth. She writhed under him. Her hands threatened to tear the sheets apart and her hips slowly learned to buck upwards with his thrusts. He played the tempo of her coming like an expert musician, his instrument singing the most erotic noises he hadn't heard in a while. But she wasn't singing the right tune yet. His thumb traced her slick cleft until he discovered the sensitive nub at the crest. He pressed it experimentally.

"Oh god!" She sang the first note right.

He rubbed it in circular motions, in sync with his finger thrusts. Her panting became heavier, then ragged, then she began making animal sounds that reached his erection before his ears. He kissed her neck in approval. Multiple times.

With a hoarse cry of passion, she came into his hand. He groaned himself. Her body lay limp beneath him, spent. Hot, viscous liquid clung to his fingers as he removed his hand from her.

"Ah'm sorry, Anna." he said, shifting his hips to settle between her legs. "But Ah must have you now."

Her eyelids parted slightly and she nodded groggily. "Yes."

He used the hand still slick with her moisture to place himself at her entrance. He barely gathered enough self-control to murmur, "Ah'm so sorry."

He eased himself into her. Just a bit.

He felt her body wince. He held still, giving her the time she needed to adjust to his presence despite the demands his body made to drive home into her.

"Alright?" he said through clenched teeth.

She gave a little nod. He advanced, sheathing himself in one long thrust that put him in immediate paradise. Her legs flew around his waist. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. His eyes closed. The room seemed to echo with their mingled noises; her quick gasps and his deeper, throaty groans. He wanted to go hard and fast _now_. But he couldn't bring himself to take pleasure while she pained. So he waited, revelling in the sensations of her intimate muscles surrounding him. How they clenched and unclenched around him. What they did to him with her slick heat. The way her breasts cushioned his chest.

She began to relax. Then she fidgeted. An electric jolt shocked his entire body and he ground out, "God, Anna, tell me if it hurts."

He began to thrust, as slowly and gently as he could. She whimpered. Yet her fingers laced themselves around his neck, pulling his closer to her. Bracing himself on his elbows, he drove a bit faster, a bit harder, holding onto the last shreds of control he had on his needs. This was a mistake, because she started to make little sensual noises that sank into his groin. He drove faster, harder, pulsing all of him into her virgin flesh, vastly aware of the sounds emerging from her with each thrust. And those gorgeous breasts were dancing to his tempo now. Which aroused him further – he thrust deeper, harder, faster until he sensed he was striking an inconsiderate pace, for a man bedding an innocent lady who hasn't felt another person in years.

Her body yielded to his, moved with his in ways that made his mind go blank. He was on the verge of ditching whatever scraps of conscience he had to surge straight into their climax. She was so damn good.

"Anna..." he ground out.

_Say something. Let me know._

"Yes?" she said.

He looked down to see a pair of half-lidded eyes, drugged with heavy desire, gazing up at him.

"Do somethin' for me."

"What?"

"Say," He kissed her neck. So soft. "My name. Say my name when you come."

She craned her neck from his kiss and tangled her fingers in his hair. Out of impulse. "Remy." she whispered breathily.

"God, yes." He thrust into her. _Remy was hers. He was hers._ "Say it 'gain."

His pulse drummed a frantic beat through his veins. He reached down and gripped her ass, pulling her up with the next thrust. He heard her breath catch. She responded in turn. Her hips ground against him within his hands. She pulled him in deeper, her inner muscles wrapping him tightly and releasing him in rhythm with his thrusts. He closed his eyes as sheer ecstasy gradually took over.

"Remy," she said again.

She yanked his head down. She kissed him brutally, crashing his lips against his teeth painfully. But he savoured the pain she caused him like the pain growing between them.

"Remy." His mouth ached for her kiss as much as it ached after she did.

He made a low sound in his throat, earning himself a third call and another lip-bruising embrace. Incredible.

His name resounded in his ears. Her voice grew hoarser with every word. His grips became tighter, her fingernails dug deeper. Her kisses grew more desperate as his thrusting soared in tempo. Friction lit a wildfire within them, threatening to burn them whole with every plunge of his length and every grinding of her hips. They moved in hot unison; their breathing turned quicker, their bodies rocked harder, their scents grew stronger. Bodies perspired against the linen sheets uncontrollably.

He hissed, "Hold ont' me."

Her legs rewrapped themselves in a dire clutch around his waist. As he drove home toward her, he reached between them to find her spot again. He circled it. She threw back her head in a noiseless open-mouthed cry. She was near. Oh, she was so very _near_.

She wanted to come. Damn it, he wanted to come. He was so close. But the noise they'll make, the noise!

Screw it all. "Come for me." he rasped. "Come for me, again."

Her head shook. In both pure ecstasy and fear. Still, she said his name.

So he captured her lips, driving his arousal home into her with all force. Nothing withheld.

And she cried out. As he told her to. Her cries vibrated down his throat. Her muscles were convulsing around him in hot, satin waves. Pulling him deeper. Sucking him closer.

White-hot release shot through him all at once. He exhaled hard, silencing his own passion. The only words that came to mind were unspeakable, loud and profane. And then there were no words at all – a harsh, primeval growl of release finally escaped and reverberated in her mouth as coarse pleasure ripped him apart.

It had never been like this. Never. He collapsed onto her, panting into her glossy maroon hair. He felt wrung out, exhausted. He was in perfect bliss. He wanted to start from the beginning and do it till the end, all over again. And again.

And again.

"Anna, _mon Chéri_." He kissed her brow and his lips came away with the taste of salt. "Th – Thank you."

She made a muffled cough in response, and Remy realised he was smothering her with his weight slumped over her. God, what a pig he was. He quickly withdrew himself from her and rolled to her side.

Which was made of bare air.

A rude shock awakened him when he bowled onto the floor for the second time. Right after sex, doubly humiliating. He forgot that they were on a single bed.

Luckily for him, she was too breathless to laugh. Her lips turned up in a smile at the sight of him struggling to haul himself back on the bed. She was magnificent in the soft glow of the lamplight. Her skin shone with their mingled sweat, her naked breasts rippling like waves with every laboured breath she took. He took a limp hand and kissed the back of it. Kept kissing. He had to be the luckiest man alive tonight. Not just for the mind-blowing intercourse, but for the angel that gave it to him. She deserves so much. He sat there and realised, she deserved so much more. Maybe he should have taken it slower. He should have been gentler. He shouldn't have teased her so much, or exact revenge on that remark about his cock not being a big deal. He was confident enough about that. Maybe he shouldn't have taken her virginity at all.

He sat beside the bed and laid his head on the edge, reaching over to smooth her hair away, muttering apologies.

"What yah' apologisin' for?" she asked, slightly peeved.

"You gave it to me." he said.

She scanned his face then smiled a little. "Yeah, Ah guess you owe meh."

"Anythin', Anna." He took her hand in both of his grateful ones. "Say the word, _mon Chéri_."

"Rooooooogue!"

Both of them froze. Simultaneously, they both rotated their sweat-dotted heads toward the source of that high-pitched, foreign voice.

Kitty. Katherine Pryde. Her head had phased through the wall and she was peering at them with half-closed eyes. Her long hair was loose and bedraggled. She didn't so much as blink as she stared straight ahead at her stark naked friend.

"What's with all the noise, like, don't you ever sleep?"

Much to Remy's horror and hopeless despair, Kitty's eyebrows furrowed together as if she were scrutinising Anna's condition. Then Kitty turned toward him and peered in his direction. Her sleepy eyes remained on him for an eternity of panic. Then her hand came through the wall to support her forehead.

"Ohhh, I gotta stop dreaming these kinda things!" she whined, retreating back into her room.

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**omg what does kitty dream about? *waggles finger* Lance... or is it Piotr? Kurt? ... 0_0 OMG!**

**hahaha heard of reviews? they're lovely treats.**


	33. His Promise

**Countdown to the end of the story: 3**

**Yeah. Awesome. Who votes Rogue get pregnant? xD two senior gals in the institute pregnant? omg the professor is gonna have to up discipline in his school before mutant babies fill the shop. i wonder how he'll do it.. logan prowling the boys' corridor at night? ororo pacing the girls' corridor? set up a condom dispenser in the compound? i imagine between remy&rogue the supply will deplete to emptiness in a fortnight. oh lord help the poor girl!**

**yeap. this story is coming to its inevitable future. an ending. sorry guys.**

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Living the X-Men Life 33

Anna and Remy exchanged bewildered, panicked and curious looks in one long moment of silence.

He spoke first, "What's Lance teachin' that gal?"

Anna giggled despite herself. She never giggled. Nor did she blush. But she was doing both at once. And by the cocky look Remy was striking in her direction (as proud as he thought he looked sitting on the floor in his birthday suit), she must look different.

She felt different.

It was like waking up from a dream. A dream made of girlish infatuations and gothic romance novels. The light seemed brighter and the darkness appeared more devious. Her body didn't feel confused anymore when he settled his weight on top of her. It felt right. Like he belonged there. No, he belonged _here_.

With her.

"Remy," she whispered. "'Bout that favour."

His head tilted in interest. "Yes?"

She rolled onto her stomach so that her face was directly in front of his. His eyes trailed up the swell of her breasts to her face soon after.

"Anythin', you said."

"What d'you have in mind?" He took her hands in his roughened ones.

She stared into his crimson eyes, gazing into that black-rimmed depth of soul. There was more than a scrap of good there. Good intentions, at least. Not necessarily the wisest or most principled decisions lurked in that soul, but he belonged. He deserved it.

"Join the X-Men."

His expression went placid. He didn't even blink.

She grasped his fingers eagerly before he could even think of pulling them away. "Stay with us. The Professor told meh' t'day. Well, yesterday. He said after all the heroics you pulled off, he was about to ask you to become one of us. Communicator, new suit, the whole gig."

Still he remained quiet. His red orbs shifted across her face.

"You said you'll do anythin'." she murmured, letting her disappointment show. Would he really going to back out on his word?

"And Ah meant it." he instantly replied.

Her heart made a jump for hope. "Stay with meh'."

"Ah won't leave you."

"Then you'll join the Institute?"

He sighed a long sigh. Where he got the air to exhale so much was beyond her; she didn't notice him breathe throughout her little speech back there.

"You didn't threaten the Professor or pull Logan's fingernails t'get me in, did you?"

She smiled wryly and shook her head. His words were delivered in full monotony; she didn't know exactly what response he wanted.

"Ah'm..." He cleared his throat. "Ah'm glad. It's... not everyday. But Ah'm... Really?"

She ran a comforting hand (or something resembling comfort) over his cheek, still damp with sweat. He's such a strong man, yet so vulnerable. "Yes. Are you deaf, Remy?"

He chuckled. Then he became serious again and took her hand into his. "You're okay livin' here?"

"Ah've been here years." she answered, puzzled.

"No, what Ah mean is..." He mimed catching something and throttling it.

Realisation dawned on her. And with it, shame. She was a murderer at the age of 19. Two lives in one month. The only crimes every other girl her age was guilty of were flirting with boys and reading magazines and shopping. The Professor promised to keep it a buried tale. But for how long? People would ask her what happened at Area 51, what the facilities are like, what captured mutants are put through. And what could she say to them? No one will look at Anna Marie, Rogue, the same way ever again.

Not that she feared their looks. She despised their sympathy, surface comfort, _pity_. But she could bear it all if only their thoughts didn't matter to her. They would think about her history, God help her, _gossip_ about it and form theories and conclusions that would end with their agreeing somehow, Anna Marie was meant to be a murderer. Orphaned with no clue to her biological family, adopted by a power-hungry woman who cared for her in some twisted way, raised by a blind future-foreseer, isolated childhood, thrown headfirst into confusion, uncontrollable powers, given no parental guidance and had her heart betrayed repeatedly, one heartbreak after another with no time lapse given to heal. With a life like that, someday she was bound to crack. When she walks into the room, some will stare, some don't, some start whispering. It was bad enough folks on the street hurt her that way. Now them.

No tears blurred her vision. Her breath didn't catch in her throat for some misplaced emotion. She didn't shiver inside. For strange reasons unknown, she wasn't empty either. She felt thoughtful in places previously she wallowed in confusion.

Remy's hand brushing a stray lock hair from her face drew her attention back to earth. His eyes were searching hers.

Speaking of Remy, what were they going to do? He joins, and they continue what they begun until someone finds out or the Institute fills up with mini-Remys? It wasn't going to work that way. This is a school, not a pleasure house. She didn't even own this room. The Professor had all the authority to take it back and make her move in with Kitty again, and Remy will have to bunk with somebody. Or Logan would happily de-ball her lover and they can keep their rooms. Either option wasn't pleasant.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Ah don't think anyone's gonna talk t'meh'." she said. "After smashin' up Tabby's face."

"Nevermind everybody." He cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her skin. "You're not the same gal as 'em."

"And it's your fault." she teased.

He gave a look of mock annoyance and stroked her hair. "Let's not talk sex, oth'rwise this conversation ain't goin' very far."

"Ah was just askin' you t'join the X-Men." she said. "You promised meh' anythin'."

"Ah'm askin' you," He tipped her chin so their eyes never left each other's faces. "If you wanna stay."

"Ah'll stay if you stay."

"We can take my bike if you wanna leave."

"And _ride_ it all nah'te?"

He grinned, toying with her lower lip. "If you can take the _long journey_."

"Oh God." she laughed and, thinking better of it, lightly ran her tongue over his thumb. "On rough roads?"

"Might get a little wet. Never know the weath'r. Nah'tes and mornin's can get hot."

"Won't be able t'sleep much."

"No," His lips closed the distance between them. "No we won't."

They were so hot, those lips. She melted into the kiss instantly. His hands held her face to his and he gave a low moan. The vibrations sent thrilling signals down her arched spine, chilling her down to her toes. Her legs and toes curled of their own accord. As his tongue entered her mouth, vivid memories of raw passion streamed into her mind, how he ran his hands up her thighs, his lips teased her neck, how his mouth suckled the ache in her nipples while his finger did amazing wonders to her most secret places. Her entire body sensitized for something more than a kiss.

They broke apart for a desperate breath of air. As soon as she had her fill, Anna reached for his face for another.

His thumb on her lip stopped her.

"That's what Ah' mean by conversation ain't gettin' far."

"Isn't a bad thin'." she protested, smiling.

They kissed again.

He smelt of feral desire – the intoxicating combination of his animal male sweat and her own musky femininity. The air around them seemed to grow heavier, pressing against her skin. She realised she was sinking deeper and deeper into his kiss, lowering onto the bed. Her body was exhausted. But pressure was building within her core and pushing against the suddenly burdensome atmosphere. Warm, pulsing energy tickled through the inner muscles between her legs. Her nipples peaked rather painfully against the bed.

She craved for his touch. She wanted him to release her so badly. Relieve her of these aches. Her body simply began to weep, the hot tears trickling from her lower body.

He drew away from her with a rough gasp. A pang of disappointment floated above the unfulfilled urges she still felt.

To her immediate delight and anticipation, he was off the floor and on the bed in a blink. She instinctively moved to roll onto her back for his pleasure, and hers. His stronger hand caught her shoulder and reversed her movements so she was back on her chest.

"Trust me." His kiss-roughened voice sent goosebumps over her naked body. It aroused her to know it was her he was desperate for.

Her senses reached an all time high when his body positioned above her bare back. The delicious heat radiating from his erection atop her ass made the hairs on the back of her neck stand. He lowered himself behind her, his elbows placed themselves at her sides. Her breath caught in anticipation. _C'mon_, she pleaded silently, _C'mon. Come on meh' and..._

_Yes._ His soft lips encased the sensitive spot in the crook of her collarbone. She sighed with intense pleasure caressing her muscles as his tongue and teeth brought her higher and higher. His large hands wasted no time in relieving the ache in her breasts, one hand on each of hers. Then his mouth trailed down her spine, following the faint traces of her vertebrae. He played her body like an expert musician. Her nerves tingled and danced to his demanding tune, broken only by her ragged pants. She was burning for him. A furnace of need was ablaze in her core, threatening to overflow with molten liquid.

"Ah love you." he said softly.

That statement, the promise of her life, as she'll come to understand, delivered so simply. But she believed every syllable in it. He relieved her of a pressure lurking behind her heart she wasn't conscious was there before. It didn't matter what people thought she was, or what people said she was. She would still breathe among them. They will still have classes with her. She won't need to walk that path down murder lane again.

She is his _Chéri_.

His darling.

His one beloved.

"Ah love you."

"Then that favour..." he murmured against her skin.

"Yes?" She craned her head around eagerly.

He grinned. She gasped as he grasped her hips and flipped her around effortlessly. He sank his head to her core, murmuring his answer against her lower lips.


	34. Ain't Nothin' Lah'ke the Truth

**Countdown to the ending: 2**

**boo hoo. boo hoo! Boo Hoo! BOO HOO HOOOOOOOOO! CRY WITH ME DAMMIT! haha im just kidding. but im really going to miss this tale. writing a full blown story is like finishing up a tub of Rum&Raisin. you wish at the second last scoop that you took everything slower, savoured each spoonful or in this case, chapter. ehh on the other hand, if i updated this story any slower nobody would care to read it, now would they? alright, i eat my words. writing fanfic is not like eating icecream. its like doing something you wanna do without being told to do it and putting aside what you have to do to do what you really want to do because doing what you want to do makes you happiest. its an addiction. a drug. psychologically and emotionally unhealthy. you get fat easily by sitting by the computer all day typing. so you stop eating junk. but fruits are annoying. they are not as sweet as you want them because they're not ripe yet or they're too sticky and crumbly because they are too ripe. then there are the seeds you gotta spit out after every bite. only bananas dont give trouble.**

**writing is just so damn good. xD i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!**

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**Living the X-Men Life 34**

The rest of the night was consumed in a frenzy of lovemaking. Remy couldn't have enough of making her cry out into his mouth over and over and over again. When he took her from behind, that was his personal favourite moment; she muffled her exceptionally loud orgasm into the fluffy pillow. At the same time, a small resentment stirred within him that they weren't free to completely enjoy each other.

Damn him if he had ever thought of leaving her.

As dawn came through the slit between the curtains, he knew their time was up. But she wasn't quite done with him. It was the battle of his life to fight her hands off each piece of clothing he struggled to put on. Jokingly, he unsheathed his bo staff and held it out in mock defence when he finally made it to zip up his jeans. He almost stripped himself down all over again when she licked the end of his staff in a teasing impulse.

Almost.

The footsteps outside reminded him that he wasn't an eligible lover to Anna Marie, student of the Xavier Institute for the Gifted, just yet.

He planted a lingering kiss on her dark lips, concocted a plan of dramatic proportions with her and hopped out the window, drawing the thick curtains behind him. Better not give any wandering eyes a sight that belonged to him and him alone. To hell with anyone who saw him.

He said he loves her, and he does.

He sidewalked the narrow length of plaster that lined the outer wall of the main building to get to a particularly large window. The latches were simple enough to pry and he pulled himself through without difficulty. Picking himself up without much ado, he flopped himself into the sitting chair next to Professor Xavier's desk. All he had to do now was wait for the Professor himself. His blood still thrummed from that last kiss. But entertaining himself by reaching into his pants in a spick-and-span office was not an option.

...

Anna eventually managed the strength to wobble back into her pyjamas, then outside to end of the line that had already formed outside the bathroom. Apparently the other girls of the house found the thin towel and toothbrush she carried to be the most formidable weapons in the world; she could tell by the way their eyes darted to and fro her. Amara shuffled closer to Jubilee as soon as Rogue stood behind her. That would have hurt. But nothing could take away the completeness she felt that morning – _had been feeling_ since the early hours of the morning. Right now, she figured, he must be resting his much exercised body in the Professor's office. Probably in that single couch. Or maybe the double-seater. Meanwhile, she began to feel the numbing after-effects of strenuous exertion standing on her two legs. She wondered what it would be like to do it on a couch...

"Mornin' Rogue." yawned Kitty, rubbing her eyes with both hands then peering at her friend. The same way she peered at Anna and Remy just a handful of hours ago. "You look...happy this morning."

"Define happ'eh." Anna drawled in her usual morning tone.

Kitty shrugged. "If you aren't grumpy, it's gotta be happy. Oh!"

Suddenly she broke into a fit of giggles. Anna kept her eyes levelled with the small brunette, knowing every other girl had their curiosity on high over their conversation.

Kitty's eyes glittered traitorously from her laughing. "Wanna know what's so funny?"

"Not reall'eh." Anna replied, knowing what was so damn funny. It took immense effort on her part not to smile or blush, otherwise the game was over.

Kitty's expression would have been more appropriate at a break-up than at a response of disinterest. Anna felt sorry for her. She was full bursting with excitement. Any moment she wanted to explode and tell the world Rogue could wear micro-shorts and spaghetti-straps now! This very instant, she could nudge her friend's bare arm and Kitty will be left totally conscious to gawk. In a matter of minutes made of the gleeful squealing of her friend, the whole mansion will be aware that she finally has her powers under control. At long last.

Not yet. That's not how they planned it. Yeah, that notion was dramatic enough on her part, but they had something crazier in mind. Something that had to do with breakfast and the whole team watching.

In the bathroom, Anna stood before the huge mirror that made up the entire upper half of one wall. She stared at her reflected self. Stark naked. Pale skinned. She ran a hand toward the purplish bruises on the areas previously covered by her pyjamas. Clever of him not to nibble on her neck, otherwise people would be beyond suspicious.

He had marked her, she realised with both a lingering thrill and a nameless emotion she couldn't put her finger on. He marked her here – on her collarbone – and here – the crest of her right breast – and _there_ – her hand travelled lower. She smiled. Her arms encircled her the way his did. She never felt more wholesome than when she was stripped down for eyes to see.

She missed him already.

He had marked her. The words rang clearly in her mind. He had marked her in wild, searing moments of passion. He marked her as his. His to see, his to love, his to touch. He marked her again and again until she was sure she belonged to no one else. Until she was sure no one else could own her, no matter what trick came out of their sleeves. It's almost as if he made sure she remembers him.

She couldn't look at herself now without being reminded of the man who smelt of sin and hope. _That's it_. All these years of deception, half-truths, surface comfort, powerlessness, she could never crawl out of the hole. No number of psychic therapies, mind-digging sessions or Danger Room courses could give her the rope she needed to climb out of that pit. Not a rope, she corrected herself, more like a staircase and a pair of stronger arms to carry her out of it. That's hope.

He said he loves her, and she believed it.

Now, she had better get under the shower or Kitty will phase in without permission.

She never took very long in the bathroom, but when she made it down to the kitchen, she felt she was late for a party. And she was uninvited. Conversation went on, so it wasn't as bad as she thought. The only persons willing to sit next to her at the table was her dear brother Kurt and sullen Kitty. As she dished out the eggs and sausages for the three of them, she counted down the minutes before Remy would walk through that open doorframe and –

"You feeling okay, Rogue?" Kurt interrupted her thoughts with a worried question.

"Yeah," she answered. "Why not?"

"You're putting food on my plate. You never put food on my plate." He took the food anyway. "And you're not angry Evan finished all the milk."

"Hey, Ray took the last drop." Dinosaur Evan protested from his snug corner near the window.

Ray suddenly turned sheepish over his full bowl of Honey Stars. He was there when Anna knuckled Tabitha upside down. "Sorry Rogue. Erm, I could – uhh..."

"Thanks. Ah don't need the milk." She had more than enough of the white stuff, coming from another source entirely.

"There's juice!" Bobby randomly announced to nobody in particular.

Laura and Jamie started bickering for the last clean drinking glass. Laura managed to convince the weaker mutant specimen that ladies like her ought to be given this privilege. Jamie had to wash a used cup from the sink. Turning to the juice Bobby promised was still in stock, Jamie whined when he watched the last drops go down Laura's throat.

"You make that sound again..." she growled.

Jamie zipped his lips tight and went for plain water. Bobby was sympathetic enough to ice it for him.

But Laura wasn't done. "When are you going to grow up, Jamie?"

"Hey," he squeaked. "I'm thirteen!"

"So am I" she scoffed. Was Laura the only one who wasn't intimidated by Rogue's most recent tantrum? That was the unspoken question between the regular students. "You're annoying, short and your voice hasn't broken yet. Just like that boy singer that sounds like a girl."

"Beiber?" Bobby suggested.

The whole room sniggered. Sam started rapping after Ludacris, mimicking the awkwardly deep voice matched with the sentimental lyrics. "_When I was thirteen, I had my first love..._" He nudged Jamie.

"Beiber's awesome, okay?" yelled Jubilee.

"Paedophile!" Someone accused Jubilee immediately. Anna turned her head around looking.

Jean frowned, "Now that wasn't nice, Amara."

"Who is this Beiber?" asked Piotr.

"A sixteen-year-old singer turned superstar. His voice is unique for his age." Jean answered.

"I still got a chance!" chirped Jamie above the racket caused by Amara and Jubilee's argument over Beiber's awesomeness. "He's sixteen. I'm thirteen!"

"How long are you gonna _stay_ thirteen?" Ray teased.

At that, Jamie snapped. His eyes started watering. He was always at the end of their short jokes just because he was the youngest. He thought that when Laura joined he had someone his own age to talk to. Just his luck she was made of the same stuff Wolverine was – tough, grown-up and demanding.

He sniffed and tried to stand tall as he hastily rubbed his eye. Conversation went on. Nobody cared. He went his way out of the kitchen with his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Unbeknownst to him, someone was tailing him.

Tabitha remained quiet on the opposite end of the table from Anna. To Anna, the whole kitchen spun with life and normality, a sight she usually dreaded in the mornings. The combination of nightmare-filled sleep and dormitory chaos sent her much abused mind into severe aching. The only ache today was between her legs. A beautiful memory.

"I need ketchup!" yelled Kitty. "Who's hogging it?"

"Not me." said Evan.

"Mustard?" Kurt offered.

"No!" frowned Kitty.

"Pepper." Anna shook the powder over her eggs.

Kurt scratched his head. "Huh?"

"My bad." Scott held up the ketchup bottle and tossed it. "Here."

His eyesight must have worsened or his aim was just plain terrible, because the half-empty bottle was heading straight for the queen of unruly anger fits: Rogue.

The whole room froze. Some gasped. Some said silent prayers for Scott Summers, teen leader of the X-Men, for however short a period. Some was just waiting to see what other sadistic feats Rogue was capable of.

Anna disappointed them all with a deft catch before the bottle met her face. "Here Kitty."

"Ohhh-kay." Kitty said in puzzled gratitude.

Everyone was staring at her. This would be the third time this week! _Remy, where the hell are you?_ She glanced at the kitchen doorframe in panic.

The sight she beheld was long-awaited for. And worth it by all accounts. Clad in a black body-hugging suit made of a reinforced material, the familiar 'X' emblem on his belt buckle, it was specifically designed with dark pink highlights that proclaimed his gorgeous figure to the world. When the Professor said he was ready to recruit Gambit, he really wasn't jesting. A turtleneck compared to his previous costume, his floppy hazel hair dropped above his shoulders instead of being restrained in a laughable bowl-cut. Standing casual, striking and undeniably action-ready (be it for battle or other activities), was Remy Lebeau.

Her gaze toward him must have been of intensely infectious proportion because all eyeballs rotated to the same doorframe she was staring at. Even with that kind of attention, he only had eyes and words for her.

"Ah donno if it's a joke on the Professor's part with the colours." He drawled. Anna smiled uncontrollably, knowing he was referring to the suit's similarity with his drawers.

The kitchen exploded with cheers, gasps and "Holy mother of –". Even Jean's jaw went slack at the sight of this delicious buffet.

"You're back." Tabitha, nearest to the doorframe, made her move.

Anna kept her hands under the table. She couldn't believe Tabitha actually had enough uninjured guts left to play this game. The urge to pull that girl by her collar remained, but she had promised Remy not to do anything. He had a better idea.

Anna watched in silent contempt as Tabby walked up to Remy. Since he didn't flinch; in fact, he spread his arms in a welcoming gesture; she laid a hand on his chest. The room didn't go as dramatically quiet as they thought. Everyone was either putting extra focus on their food or talking to Remy, who replied them amiably.

"Where'd you go, man?" called Ray.

"Your sister's house."

That was a close one, thought Anna. Ray was an orphan. If Remy mentioned his mother's house instead, there will be blood. And flying bolts of electricity.

"We thought we were gonna have McCoy to give us French lessons." Bobby shivered.

"He's not a bad teach." added Jubilee. "But still."

"No shit." smiled Remy. "Don't send nobody t'do a Cajun's job."

He gave that brief, mistakable wink in her direction and Anna braced herself for what's to come.

"What kinds of jobs do Cajuns do." said Tabitha, her hand travelling dangerously down Remy's upper body.

He grinned, "This kind." Taking her itchy fingers, he laid a jiffy-second lip contact on them before releasing her.

Anna exhaled in some resentment. _It's all part of the plan_, she reminded herself. Her hand massaged the place where he had marked her collarbone.

"And this kind."

Before she knew it, he was behind her. He had removed his new gloves as he walked and now touched her clothed upper arms. That reassuring grip, the warmth of his fingers... She stood up and away from the chair. She raised her head to meet his that was coming down on hers with all tenderness. And rehearsal.

He kissed her. Lip on lip. Full on skin to skin contact. And to their shared delight, everyone gasped. Except Kitty. Kitty squealed.

The sight they must be making, she thought. Priceless.

His tongue plunged itself into her mouth without invitation. She almost pulled back in surprise. That wasn't part of the plan! But her body wasn't going to argue with the immense pleasure that came with this kind of kiss. She opened her mouth wider to him, abrading her own tongue against his. Her hands reached up and combed through his smooth hair when he released her arms to pull her body flush against his. She let herself moan aloud. Oh, what a release! To finally sound out the bottled cries of ecstasy she and him kept back all night long. She wanted everyone to know. Let them see for themselves that he loves her. He sent a deep, strident growl into her throat and she shivered in delight. She could barely hear the noise made by everyone else.

"Whoa-ho-ho!" "Wheeeeeeeeew. Wait till Logan sees that!" "Oh yeah, add some tongue. That's right!" "Ow, Ow, baby!" "Yummy..."

They even knew when to break apart. Heaving breath in unison with her, he listened to the X-Men's response.

"What!" That was Tabitha.

"My... My sister!" cried Kurt Wagner.

"Oh my God!" Please, Jean Grey! You've done worse. Remy chuckled. _So have we. In fact, we've probably done it better_.

He stroked her hair gently. Not that there were any strands on her face, he just wanted to touch her. It still stirred him to touch her porcelain skin whichever part of her body it belonged. Of course, certain parts were more arousing than others. His hand started crawling down toward said parts but she stopped him. With her hands on his and that breathtaking look that said, "Enough is enough, you greedy pig. We've shocked them already." He relented to her wish. That is, until tonight.

"Wait a minute," cried Kitty from beside him.

He glanced at her. The small face flitted between Anna's and his, her eyes widening in comprehension.

"So...so..." she continued. "Oh. My. _God_."

Remy blinked in exaggerated innocence and she squealed some more.

He fingered his damaged ear. "Ouch."

"Kitty, stop it." Anna muttered. "Show's over."

"No, it's not!" Kitty was smiling from ear to ear. "_Rogue!_"

She flew onto Anna with a cry of utter joy. Remy had his Anna wrenched from him into an embrace that forced the air out of her lungs and threatened to squeeze her eyeballs from their sockets.

"C'mon Kurt!" called Kitty. "Group hug!"

Anna's eyes enlarged in despair as her blue brother further reduced her breathing space. Remy stood back and grinned. Yeah, this was her family, he thought. She belongs here. He caught the aggrieved glance Kurt threw at him and his grin broadened. _And I'm a part of this now_.

A hand came on his shoulder. Remy turned to see Evan the Dinosaur nodding in high approval.

"Well done, man." he complimented. "I donno what you did, but well done anyway. Welcome to the X-Men."

He offered his hand and Remy shook it. Evan gave his shoulder a hard and friendly shake before stepping aside. That's when Remy noticed Piotr shaking his head in his direction, a smile growing on his big face. Remy shrugged nonchalantly. Piotr discreetly gave him a thumbs-up.

A series of resounding footsteps echoed in the corridor outside before the last remaining characters of the Institute walked in, no doubt summoned by Kitty's insistent squealing. You name them: Ororo, McCoy, Logan and the Professor himself.

Logan, much to Remy's satisfaction, spoke first. "What's goin' on in here?" He saw Kitty and Kurt all over Anna and he shot Remy a look of suspicion. "Cajun, what did you do?"

"Ah kissed her." he replied simply and honestly.

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**hello. to all beiber fans, im sorry im not apologetic about that jibe about him being physically immature. im a johnny depp girl.**

**thanks for making it to the end, dear reader! =D**


	35. Epilogue

**So! Guys, it's been a great ride. i cannot say how much i wanna thank you all for all the support and reviews and PMs that you guys sent me to help this story along! i owe you guys BIG TIME! =D here's the last chapter of the fanfic, written with all dedication and heartfelt effort. i hope the ending is to your liking... personally i love it. you never know, there may be a sequel after all! im considering posting a oneshot with the idea of babies and elopement and problems with the neighbours. BUT no real promises there, loves =( college is starting and my course ends at 730pm earliest. by the time i get my exhausted brain home, it will probably want to jump out of my skull and die. **

**I don't wanna end this tale with a moron tagging behind my ass nagging me about character details, so this little note is aimed straight for a certain reviewer's head. Namely, ANNONYMOUS:  
dude, or gal, or thing, whatever the hell you are, im following X-Men Evolution with all gravity of Jupiter. Not Earth, Jupiter. That giant fattest planet in our solar system. i hope you know what im talking about, being the moron that you are. in xmen evo, Rogue has GREY EYES & MAROON HAIR & she is gothic. IN THE COMICS IT IS GREEN & BROWN and she is sassy. In evo, Gambit is a PAID ACOLYTE TO MAGNETO, aka look it up in wiki, he's a MERCENARY. savvy? btw, the fact that you reviewed with the name ANNONYMOUS says something about your level of courage. misplaced your balls lately? PITY.**

**for everyone else that i love and am eternally grateful to, THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! XD im drafting a potential sequel as you read this chappie so LOOK OUT FOR IT! X) and then there's another long story where anna & remy are betrothed by their foster parents because destiny had a vision. yea its AU. what do you get? chaos, a honeymoon, running away, scheming, Thieves, Romy and lots and lots and lots of lemon (which is the definition of Romy in any case ;D).**

**Love all you guys. and my best pal, for reading and re-reading and giving me all the encouragement i needed! she doesn't write romy, but Alice Acedemy fans, try out her fanfic account Don Melon Lord =) and my other pals who don't do fanfic, but listened to me yabber about it!**

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Living the X-Men Life 35

**Eight months later...**

Scott Summers was sitting in the lounge, surrounded by male peers, each of them having given up on plugging their ears. On the coffee table lay an X-Communicator. The females of the Institute were either with Jean or not indoors. The younger students, both male and female, decided that it was best for their hearing abilities to leave the Institute grounds for the day and spend their time not thinking about babies.

"SCOTT SUMMERS!" Jean's screams exploded from the X-Communicator. Blissful silence followed. Then, "YOU ARE NEVER. EVER. COMING NEAR ME. EVER. _AGAIN!_"

"Jean, I'm sorry!"

"DON'T!" She refused to have any of it. "DON'T say you're sorry! Just shut up! Kitty! Switch that thing so that I don't have to hear his goddamn voice!"

The man in question groaned into his hands.

Remy LeBeau would have taken his Anna and both of them hopped on his bike to some distant beach to do more pleasant things than listen to a labouring woman screeching at her lover. Pleasant things involved the act of making babies itself but with the protection of their good friend Durex. But Anna wanted to stay. Alright. Fine by him. If she wants to be there for Jean Grey, he had no bones about it. The only thing that ate him (not in the sexual tense) was that she demanded that he stay too.

"Stay and do what?" he had asked, not caring to hide his horror.

Anna put her hands on her hips and gave him the scowl she reserved for talking to idiots. She replied impatiently, "Ah donno! But you're not goin' nowhere without meh'!"

Scott chose that fateful moment to groan, "She hates me now. I shouldn't have –"

"Fucked her?" guessed Logan, arms sprawled on the three-seat couch head.

Scott raised his head. "_No_. I mean, yes! Arghhh! NO! I... We argued. Before this happened. Now she doesn't even want to see me." He mashed his face in his hands.

Anna suggested, "You could keep him company."

"Him?" Remy threw a hand in Scott's direction. "So it's his baby. And Ah gotta suffer."

Jean screamed. Everyone in the room made noises of protest against the unearthly sound.

Anna sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose. Remy long since understood that gesture as her affirmation to think rationally. He sighed himself. Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her into an embrace.

She responded by running her hands over his biceps. "You know Kitty made meh' promise her Ah'll be there." She implored him in a whisper, "Please. Don't go anywhere."

"Eh," He toyed with a white lock of hair that fell over her face. "At least you ain't askin' me t'sit in on the labour." He knew he was going to regret it on a personal note, but whatever made her happy, made his day in the end. "Alright. Ah'm sold. Ah'll do somethin' 'bout the father in the sunglasses."

It was awkward and unrewarding. So he had been in the mansion for almost nine months and an X-Man for eight of those months, but Summers and him were not on best-buddy terms. If anything, they were on quit-making-so-much-noise-next-door provisos.

The Institute did not have penned rules about entering the room belonging to a person of the opposite sex. Sometimes the kids stay up late playing Risk or Monopoly in Bobby's or Tabitha's room. Kitty and Kurt have been known to just hang out privately in one of their rooms. And everyone knows that Anna and Remy have been up to one thing late at night in his or her room via noise complaints. More often, most of the complaints were about his room. The Professor himself was one of the complainers.

One day after several sleep-interrupted nights, Xavier took his recruits to the side. McCoy was in the same office doing paperwork and no doubt listening out on the conversation.

"Anna, Remy, I understand the game of courtship as well as the next man. And the next man has to have his needs satisfied. That I understand just perfectly. However, when it goes at the expense of an unwilling audience, I have to speak for the rest."

Remy scratched his goatee and stole a glance at Anna, who didn't even deem to blush. Her chin was jutted out self-righteously as she eyeballed the Professor.

"I can't stop you." the handicap with eye bags continued. "Despite the duty that I should. The younger students may pick up your example. But to ban you two will just add fuel to the flame."

Remy grinned at that.

"I have to plead then, for you both to tone down your nightly activities."

Remy was tempted to ask how, but swept the cheeky urge under the fine red carpet he stood on. "Alright, Prof." he answered instead. "We'll try t'keep it quiet."

"Perhaps," added McCoy. "I suppose it would be too much to ask you both to frequent in each other's rooms a little less frequent?"

_There are plenty of other suitable places_, thought Remy, slipping his hand around Anna's shoulder. Her hand slid around his waist, as if she read his thoughts and completely agreed with him.

Apparently McCoy read minds too. "Maybe cease these activities altogether?"

The question went unanswered by day, but when neither of the two came for dinner that evening, everyone knew their answer.

"Thanks, Remy." She tiptoed and kissed him on the lips. Public affection wasn't exactly her thing, most times she threw him off when he tried to fondle her on the family couch, but she just did it because she could.

Immediately a gruff snort responded from the couch.

She pulled away and whispered into his ear. Her hot breath never stopped warming up his blood. "_Ma amour_ (my love)."

He pinched her round backside as she sashayed away, earning a coy smile from over her shoulder.

Logan was giving him unfriendly looks. Remy waited for the door to close behind Anna before he spread his arms defensively.

"What?" he drawled.

"Do what you gotta do outta mah' sight." Logan grumbled.

"Out o'your sight," Remy recited monotonously. "Out o'your earshot. Where are we supposed t'get it done in this house?"

"You don't." he scowled.

"Hey, she ain't pregnant."

At this, Logan leaned forward forebodingly. "She'd bett'r not, Cajun."

Remy looked at Scott then back at Logan, smelling prejudice in the air. "Pick on the Cajun. Ah get it."

"!" Jean reminded the men that she was in pain of such deep proportions male specimens cannot comprehend.

Logan added, "If that's Anna, you'll be doin' some screamin' ye'rself."

Evan cut Remy off from a rebuttal. "Dudes, seriously, shuddup. There's a Scott in pain over here."

Remy sat himself in the only available space, with Logan. When the stouter man had heard Remy clearly say that he had kissed Anna, he didn't fly into the rage Remy was expecting. The Canadian stood rooted to the tiled kitchen floor. His eyes widened. The way his lips pressed together into two thin white lines though, told Remy he had better play things more tactfully.

Logan turned to the girl. "Rogue." he said in his gruff, paternal tone.

She wrestled out from Kitty and Kurt's combined death hold right into Logan's arms. Remy arched his eyebrow in much, much surprise.

She shared his surprise. "You're not gonna kill him?"

"Kill him?" Logan snorted. "Too easy. What Ah have in mind takes more time." His mouth twisted into an expression made of half a bully's smirk and a father's smile. "You did good kid. Hell Rogue, you've done meh' damn proud."

"Thanks Logan." she said, her pearl grey eyes shining. "And, uh, everyone... Mah' real name's Anna."

A crescendo of screams yanked Remy out of his personal memories.

"Somebody put his mouth to some use." suggested Evan.

"Hmmm." Remy mused. "You and Jean decided on a name yet?" he asked Scott.

"Can we not talk about the baby, for God's sake?" When another resounding screech erupted from the communicator, Scott dropped his head into his hands. "Oh God, I can't take this."

Piotr decided to give comfort a try. "My family back in Russia. I have a sister. She married and gave birth to a baby girl just before... I left. She sounded the same as Jean when she was in labour. Worse, because her baby came early. She cried for nine hours before Anastasia was born."

Scott moaned aloud.

Remy rolled his head at Piotr and gave him the you're-not-helping look. Piotr zipped it. With a sigh, Remy moved over and sat on the armrest of the sofa chair Scott occupied.

"What Piotr is tryin' t'say is," he said smoothly. "Everythin' is gonna turn out okay."

"Only when it doesn't." murmured Evan.

Remy shook his head slightly at Dino. _Let's not go there_.

"What?" Evan huffed. "Gotta prepare a man for the worst."

"He's right, Cajun." Logan joined in. "Sometimes the woman don't make it."

"True, but..." Remy hinted for one of the two negative people to pull the mood back up.

Logan caught it. "But this isn't some random woman we're talkin' about. This's Jean Grey. Hey, Scott, look up. We all know Jean Grey. The whole mansion's full of girls walkin' the hallways every day. But there isn't a woman like your woman."

Scott didn't seem the least bit convinced so Remy felt urged to elaborate. "There's Kitty. Now she's got the spirit and the drive when nobody has. There's Tabitha, darin' t'try anythin' nobody wants t'try. Laura can't be put down on anythin' – she gets what she wants and everybody bett'r get outta her way. Ororo has the heart t'hold on for people, even if they fight her. Anna is the most headstrong gal any man could ev'r meet."

Remy relished in the scowl that sprouted on Logan's face. "But when it comes to strength o'will, Jean beats 'em all. She's the pillar 'round here. Keepin' the lid on the kids. She'd make a great mother and right now, Summers, she's determined t'give you a great kid. You know why?"

"Why?" Scott actually straightened up in some attention.

Score one for Remy Lebeau and his lying tongue. Like real there's any woman better than his Anna.

Remy smiled. "Because she loves you."

"SCOTT!" Jean's pained cry scratched through the communicator. "THIS IS ALL _YOUR FAULT!_"

Remy and Scott looked at one another.

Her cry grew into a primal growl. "I. HATE. _YOU!_"

"See?" Remy said at length. "Sounds like love t'me."

"If that's love," Evan chuckled darkly, "I wonder what Anna says to you to get you high."

Remy pointed a warning index finger at Daniels. When Scott made no response, he decided they all have some conversation stimulant.

"Logan," He cocked his head to get his attention. "Got beer in the fridge?"

"Bett'r." Logan replied, getting up toward the open doorframe. "There's whiskey."

Remy turned back to Evan and Piotr for a suggestion. Both had none. He took a refreshing breath of jumbled ideas. "A new bar opened up." He decided on brainless small talk. "Nearer the South end. Called the Liquor Ballroom. Anna and Ah went t'check it out last week. Good food and drinks, real cosy place. What's special is they got a nice, stylish dance floor for proper waltzin'. Not like those nightclubs and stri – other clubs. They play classical, tango, jazz... When we went, there was a live jazz band from Louisiana. Their _fois gras_ was amazing, pricey, but hell, Anna said she never tasted anythin' like it –"

"Remy." Scott interrupted and looked up at him. His sunglasses made it impossible for Remy to read his expression.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Remy raised his eyebrows in suppressed pique. He put his hands up in surrender and got off the arm rest. Scott ran all his fingers through his hair, resuming his posture of defeat. As Remy got comfortable where he sat before, Logan entered with a handful of glasses and a Crown Royal bottle. The amber liquid soon filled the five glasses and was downed just as quickly into five gullets. Refill was in order soon enough.

A particularly bloodcurdling scream clawed through the air.

"We're going to cut this communication for obvious reasons," the Professor's voice spoke unusually calm through the communicator. "I'm sorry, Scott."

The device went _beep!_ and that was it.

"Remy."

"Yeah?"

"Keep talking."

So he did. For hours. He talked about clubs and pubs and the differences between the two, between cheap bars and classy bars and that he only brought Anna to the classy ones. He droned on about food, where to get the good ones in town or on the outskirts of Bayville. He talked about which bistros accept mutants and those that don't, last night's dinner, what Cajun dinner is like. Whiskey dwindled in its decanter, legs propped on the coffee table and arms stretched across sofas, bodies sank into the cushions. Through it all, Remy drawled about any mundane topic that came to his extensive imagination, anything everyday and worth little concern, to remind everyone that beyond Jean's labour, everything mundane will continue on everyday.

The setting sun painted the lounge warm shades of gold and orange through the open windows, the glaring yellow yolk burning into their eyes. Remy was embarking on a descriptive description on how to make world-class Cajun seafood pasta. By this point, his suave voice had gone hoarse and he was boring even himself. But until Scott told him to take a rest, he was going to keep the men occupied.

"So," Remy yawned. "It's goddamn hot stuff, but _très délicieux_ (very delicious). First you cook the pasta, in salted water. That's the trick. Boil some cream, keep stirring. Lower the heat a little, then throw in all your herbs and salt and peppers, onions, parsley... Leave it. Then throw in your –"

Ororo saved them all, thank God, when she flung open the lounge doors.

Scott jumped to his feet with renewed energy, the other four men followed suit in lumbering motions.

Ororo shook her head. "No baby yet."

Five chests deflated in unison.

Scott resumed depression. "She's gonna die."

"Jean is not going to die." said Ororo firmly. In Remy's eyes, a flicker of pure exasperation passed her placid complexion. "First births take awhile, Scott. I just came down to tell you personally that Jean is doing very well. Just a few hours more."

Remy couldn't contain his restlessness much more and threw up his hands. "_Mon Dieu_."

"Can I see her?" pleaded Scott.

"No."

That defiant response, coming from a respected woman of the house, made Scott stand to his full height. "I'm going to see her, Ororo. I don't care what you say, I'm gonna see her!"

"No, you're not." The sunset turned shadowy as the sky outside took a dark turn, as did her expression. She looked tired, worn out, _weathered_. Remy felt pity stir within him for the woman playing midwife to her own student. No doubt she had been right next to Jean while the girl screamed and cried in pain. Now the boy was demanding more and more of her, or so it might seem to her. The sky had good reasons to darken.

Remy had to salute them for trying.

"You can't keep him from her." Logan objected.

"Aunty O," Evan joined the argument in Scott's favour. "Just give him a few minutes."

"It's not about what I can give him, it's whether Jean wants to give him anything." She drew her words out in a carefully restraining manner. Her gaze settled on Scott. "Jean doesn't want to see you. And I have to put what she wants above what you want."

Scott kept his glare on the black Lady of the Weather, fists clenching and unclenching indecisively. He finally sat down, sullen and muttering. Ororo overheard a few words and she couldn't help but flush in offence.

When Logan echoed what he said, Ororo threw him a withering look.

"I came down to tell you Jean's doing fine." she continued quietly, turning. "I'm going back up."

"Ororo," Scott pleaded, apologetically this time. He took the effort to walk over and take her arm. "Please. I know Jean is angry with me. I shouldn't have said what I said to her but you gotta let me see her. Give me a chance to put things right."

Ororo nodded, "Not now, but after the baby is born, Scott."

"You shouldn't keep him from her, Ororo." Logan muttered.

"Don't _you_ start telling me what I should be doing!" Storm raised her voice, the pitch dropping into a dangerous baritone. "Care to –"

Remy had no idea what she was about to say, but he figured it wasn't very lovely to hear. He stepped through everyone and gently touched Ororo's elbow. Summoning his most gratified look and poised tongue, he said, "Jean needs your help. And alot of it. We'll just wait here."

...

The hospital scene contained a sweating Jean, a pale Kitty, a teeth-clenching Anna and an anxious Professor Xavier.

"I'm going to _kill_ him."

Anna looked up from wringing a wet cloth. Kitty was standing by the other side of the bed, fanning Jean industriously. The poor girl's arm was beginning to give way. On her part, Anna removed the old cloth and placed a fresh damp one on her friend's creased forehead. Her hands were ashen white with cold from soaking the cloths in iced water. The stupid blocks of ice floating about the bucket made bonking noises whenever she dipped her hands in. Needless to say, her irritability was on its edge.

What made it harder for her act of charity, was these efforts did little to cool the labouring woman's temper.

"Now Jean..." Professor soothed her forearm.

"I'm going to murder Scott for what he did to me." Jean growled. "Does he know how much this hurts?"

"He probably does." Ororo answered as she entered the room. "They're all downstairs fretting over you."

"Good!" Jean muttered venomously. "I hope the worrying kills him!" Turning to Kitty, she snapped, "I'm labouring here!"

Kitty whined and turned the fan back to Jean.

"Actually," Ororo pushed the covers over Jean's legs, after the Professor had wheeled away from her side of the view. "The labour is just about to start."

Anna dropped the cloth she was wringing and exchanged dismayed looks with Kitty, who whined.

"_Start?_" gasped Jean. "What d'you mean _start?_"

"Now you push." she explained. "On your next contraction, you push with everything you have. Anna, Kitty, help her sit up."

The bed's auto mechanism whirred to put Jean at a comfortable angle and the duo braced her by her shoulders. The room was silent with anticipation except for Jean's heavy breathing. In a while, she began groaning.

"Hold her up." Ororo instructed, holding Jean's legs apart. "Now push, Jean, push!"

Jean rocked back as she heaved. Her face contorted and she threw her head back in a wailing scream of pain right into Anna's ear. The woman who used condoms winced and forced Jean to sit back up. God, but this was becoming intolerable.

"No more screaming." Ororo said sternly, "Screaming wastes your energy. Anna, give her one of the cloths to bite on later."

When the contraction was over, Jean slumped onto the bed, panting. Anna wrung one of the ice cold cloths and held it out when she caught sight of Kitty staring straight at her. The smaller, frightened girl mouth the words, _I want to leave_.

Anna furrowed her eyebrows and quickly lipped, _You can't_.

Kitty squeaked, "I'm scared."

"I heard that!" snapped Jean, pushing away the cloth. "You're not going anywhere, you understand?"

"But – Oh my God!"

Jean latched her hand like an iron grip around Kitty's wrist as her next contraction took hold. Anna braced her up again as her friend pushed with an ear-deafening cry, followed by Kitty's shriek as Jean squeezed hard enough to crack a bone.

Ororo yelled over the din, "Anna, put that cloth in her mouth now!"

_Gladly._ Anna shoved the damp thing between Jean's lips and forced her jaw to clamp over it, muffling the scream and giving Jean something else to vent her pain on. When the contraction was over, Kitty whined over her reddened wrist.

"Hey, you dragged me into this!" barked Anna.

She shouldn't have let Kitty talk her into staying here. Remy was right; a day at a deserted beach, with a basket of sandwiches and cold lemonade laced with Cointreau, and a very large beach towel or hammock, was a better option than being here. Instead of a stuffy emergency room, she could be under the shade of a tree with the wide ocean ahead of her. Her hands wouldn't be freezing but warm against his body. Her ears would be abused by his suggestive whispers, not hideous screeching.

Just thinking about him made her wish he was in here. She barely noticed that her head tended to lift toward that glass door, hope rising every time in case his face might be pressed there. She was disappointed each time. Jean didn't want the company of anyone male except the Professor, and even he had to argue that right with her.

Jean was going into another contraction.

Watching her cry out in raw pain was something Anna couldn't relish in, as much as she always wanted to see Jean go crazy with some sort of hurt, pampered rich background as she had. But this was too intense, torturous to a degree. Anna began to wonder if she would ever wind up in a position like that. Pregnant. A Remy junior in her oven. Labouring. She bet whatever Jean could scream and curse at Scott, she would perform far worse on Remy.

What would it be like? She thought. Having another living being inside you? Would it feel like a duty or a desire to deliver the baby at the end of nine months of carrying it around? What kind of food cravings would she have? Would he want a boy or a girl. She would like a girl. A beautiful one with his normal hair and her normal eyes and normal skin. She would make sure never to buy those ridiculous frilly dresses for babies. She'll wear mittens and socks and a beanie and a shirt that says "Don't give Mommy any dumb advice, She's doing fine!" Anna remembered seeing that design in a flea market stall when they went together. She also remembered that they actually spent awhile browsing through the baby products until the twinkle-eyed woman at the stall asked them if they had been married long. They gave a polite smile that had the old lady nodding away.

Remy then grinned and held up a shirt for her reading. She smacked him for it. It said "All my Daddy wanted was a Blowjob" And yes, she had learned how to do that right by now.

It struck her at that moment, she wondered if it struck him too, that a child was an element of her life. She wasn't worried about fertility rates or cost but a family was a nice thought. A delightful thought. But he didn't seem to have any response to the mindless browsing and she put that idea aside. Maybe some other day.

But she couldn't stop thinking about it. Until now, she wished he was right here with her.

...

"What did you say t'her anyway, Scott?" Remy asked.

"We argued." he replied. "She didn't want my help. But I insisted. Then she called me something, I called her something and she got mad. She stormed off to the kitchen and the next thing I know, Ororo is saying she is going into labour, a month too soon!"

"Pull yourself t'gether, man!" Evan frowned. "She'll be fine! How many damn times d'you need us to say that?"

"What happened?" Remy asked again. The idiot still isn't telling the story. "What was she up to?"

Scott sighed. "You know, the Professor gave us a room to be the baby's nursery? Jean and I put it together three months ago but she kept shifting things and rearranging things everyday. I thought it was okay, she was just excited. This morning I found her standing on a high stool reaching for those Styrofoam deco alphabets pasted on the wall. Of course, I barged in and carried her down!"

"She didn't fall, right?" Logan asked.

"My God, no!" said Scott. "No, no! But she could have! But she kept insisting she had everything under control and I was being a pessimistic asshole for giving her a scare. She's the one standing on a high stool with our unborn baby, all round and all that, and _I _gave_ her _a scare?"

"'Cause I think she's takin' too long up there." Logan pointed out. It was midnight by then and this whole episode started at lunchtime. The kids had returned home and Logan had sent them scuttling to bed.

Scott froze and started to get up when the Professor wheeled through the door. He wasn't smiling and he wasn't in the least bit in a serene mood. Remy could only imagine what it was like to be sitting next to your suffering prize student. He had stayed long enough to know that Jean was the closest thing to a daughter toward the Professor. Yeah, he could only imagine.

"Jean wants to see you now, Scott. Everyone else can come along too."

Scott moaned into his hands all over again. Remy couldn't suppress rolling his eyes at the hopeless father-to-be.

When he looked up, he wasn't much more optimistic. "She's gonna die, isn't she? She wouldn't call for me unless she's gonna die."

"She's not dying, Scott." the Professor assured.

"What did she say?" Scott demanded. "I wanna know exactly what she said!"

"Very well." the Professor said. "Jean said, "Tell my pessimistic asshole of a boyfriend that his baby needs a name.""

Scott remained a pessimistic asshole despite the male chorus of congratulations that ensued. "She still hates me. She won't forgive me."

"I'm not done yet." The Professor continued, ""Tell my pessimistic asshole of a boyfriend that his baby needs a name _and_ his girlfriend needs a kiss."

Remy's "Ah told you so." never made it out of his mouth before Scott was dashing out of the lounge.

...

Remy thought the baby could challenge him on the handsome level. This little wrinkled E.T. wrapped in a cocoon of white linen had the best of two other worlds that couldn't be Jean or Scott. The thing was as red-faced as a drunkard with bright red lips and his burger bun head jerked in protest against his bounds. His eyes were two tight lines drawn into the creases of his face. His chin folded over his soft neck, vulnerability written all around.

Everyone s crammed into the small emergency room as Jean took her voiceless daughter from the over-thrilled Kitty. With a true mother's caress, she hushed the baby into a peaceful composure. Anna held her hands before her, enjoying Remy's reassuring hand on her back and the heart-warming sight of a real, biological family. She was content.

"Would you like to hold her, Anna?" Jean offered with a grateful smile.

"Uh," Anna suddenly felt unease start a spinning carousal in her gut. "Ah don't –"

"Sure you do." beamed the mother. "Here, it's easy."

Remy watched Anna hesitantly scoop the baby into her pale, bare arms. What began as an inelegant attempt to not drop the infant, Anna's arms seemed to shape into a cradle, form-fitted for the little papoose. She jutted out her hip to support the baby's weight, her neck bending over the small, round face. She swayed as gracefully as a pliant vine to keep the baby happy. The infant's helpless head was contentedly lodged in the crook of her arm. Her lush breasts were pressed against the tiny body, securing it with all comfort and maternal attention a child needed. All this in a moment of feminine instinct.

A strange compulsion gripped Remy. Before him stood a living portrait of divine domesticity, and in some deep corner of his being, he unexpectedly longed to be a part of it. He never felt an urge so sudden, so riveting, so powerful. He couldn't even name the sensation with all the words he had been spewing out hours ago. It wasn't desire, lust, attraction... not even love. It was rooted from love. And only three simple words grew from it:

_I want that_.

A child. A family. All the pleasant activities a man enjoyed in getting a child. Months of anticipating the arrival of said child –peering at a sonar scan for a girl or a boy. Whichever she wanted. Wondering whether its hair will be streaked maroon and white like its mother's, or hazel like his father's, or a shade in the spectrum in between? Will it have his demon eyes or those beautiful pearl greys from Anna? Baby jumpers, pacifiers, milk bottles, baby mittens and socks. And one blood-bound tie with the woman he loved. Perhaps a legal tie.

_I want that._

_And I'm going to have it._

**

* * *

**

The End? x)


End file.
